The Sorting
by Jess.91
Summary: They have a lot to deal with, the next generation. Not the least is their sorting.
1. Lily

Well I'm not sure why I started writing this, but I think it came out OK. I might even turn it into a proper story, and write about all the next generation's sortings. Let me know what you think.

The Sorting

"That's _her_!" Someone hissed, and for a moment I considered turning around and looking at them. But James had said it was best to ignore them, and that they'd get over it quickly.

"There? The redhead?" Someone else whispered.

"Yes. Lily, her name is. Potter's kid."

Potter's kid. Fantastic. That's going to haunt me forever, isn't it? I haven't even been sorted yet, and already I'm known as Potter's kid.

I'm famous, you see. Not for anything I've done, however. No, I'm famous by association. My father, the famous Harry Potter.

My mother, famous Quidditch player and writer for the Daily Prophet.

My uncle, the creater of the Weasley's Wizard Wheezes.

My entire family, mostly, war heroes.

Maybe I should have got to the platform alone, rather than arriving with not only my mum and dad, and my Uncle Ron – famous for his place in the war and for his role in the WWW – and my Aunt Hermione – famous for her place in the war, and for her career, and all the books she's written – and Teddy, who everyone at Hogwarts will have known. Or at least heard of. Plus, there was James and Al, who even sat on the train with me, as though I was afraid to travel alone.

As a result, I met no one on the train, and my fellow first years are strangers. Bar Hugo, of course, who is not only my cousin but my best friend.

Anyway, I am famously related, and so am already being pointed at, whispered about, and labelled as Potter's kid.

Wonderful.

I sort of feel kind of sorry for those being sorted right now. No one's paying them any attention, staring instead at me. Huh. I'm going to develop severe paranoia at this place.

Beside me, Hugo shifted nervously. Honestly, we're only on the Ds. He's got a while to wait yet. Besides, since my dad told me that you can practically choose your house, me and Hugo made a pact that we'd go into the same one. So whichever one I get into, he has to ask for. I'd do the same, obviously, but Potter comes before Weasley, therefore Hugo is playing the sheep.

"Maverick, Joseph." The deputy head announced, and that caught my attention. Maverick? When did we reach the Ms? Oh no, oh no, oh damn no...

Yes, that's right, Harry Potter's daughter – Ginny Weasley's daughter – is absolutely terrified of putting a raggedy hat on her head. And no, not because the thing could be lice-infected.

My entire family is Gryffindor. Even Molly, who I really didn't think would end up there. So, even though Hugo should follow me, I don't want to be the first none-Gryffindor. And what if Hugo doesn't follow me? What if he breaks the pact and I end up somewhere else and all alone?

"Nearly Potter's turn." I heard a whisper. "Where do you think she'll end up?"

"Gryffindor, for sure." Someone replied, and I frowned. What if I didn't? What if I ended up somewhere else, different? Would I still be seen as Potter's kid, or would I finally be just Lily, a real, separate person?

I think my own identity would be worth even Slytherin.

Something to think about there.

"Parker, Elizabeth."

Not a lot of thinking time, though. That's...problematic.

Another student...and another...and what if I don't hear my name and I just stand here like an idiot –

"Potter, Lily."

Oh. There it is. No need to worry about missing it –at the very mention of my name, the noise starts up. And Hugo nudged me forward, but the people of Hogwarts talking would have been enough of a clue. I walked carefully forward, hoping not to trip – can you imagine what a ledgend that would become? Potter's kid tripped on her way to the sorting...fell flat on her face then was bright red for two hours, while the students of Hogwarts laughed.

I was so distracted with the don't-fall-over thing, that I barely noticed when I sat on the little stool, or when the hat was dropped onto my head. Ergo, I jumped violently when a voice spoke in my ear – my head? – and very nearly screamed.

_I doubt that you falling over is legend material, Miss Potter._

"I...You're probably right." I replied after the initial shock. "But all they've done since I got here is talk about me. It wouldn't surprise me."

_Only to be expected, isn't it?_

"No. I'm not my father – I didn't do any of the things he did. I'm not my mother, either, and I haven't done anything _she's_ done. I'm just me, and I haven't done anything, and I don't deserve to be famous."

_So you want to earn your fame?_

"I want to deserve it. If I wasn't already famous I doubt I'd want it – do you know the Daily Prophet has pictures of my seventh birthday party? That's just weird. But since I _am_ famous, I want to have it for the right reasons. Not just because I was randomly born to Harry and Ginny Potter."

_Good. That's very good._

"Smart, too. Maybe I'm Ravenclaw material."

_You don't want Ravenclaw, Miss Potter._

"Lily. It's Lily. And why don't I want Ravenclaw?"

_You're not the studying type. And I think you'd be very frustrated when you attempt to enter the common room._

"Hey, I'm not stupid-"

_Oh, I know that. But you're not a Ravenclaw, Miss Potter. Trust me._

"It's Lily, I told you. And OK, so I'm not a Ravenclaw. How's about Hufflepuff?"

_Now, be honest. The general opinion of Hufflepuff isn't very high, is it?_

"So? There's lots of great Hufflepuffs."

_And you think that it would be easier to prove yourself there? That if you were in that house, people would expect less of you?_

"I – no..."

_Besides, you're not a Hufflepuff._

"I'm really loyal!"

_But you're not a Hufflepuff._

"Fine. Slytherin?"

_Miss Potter, you don't wish to be there. I can see, don't forget. You fear them, slightly. And dislike them._

"But no one expects me to be there-"

_You don't belong there, Miss Potter. You do not have their qualities. You know where you belong. Where you_ want _to be. We both do._

I sighed, because the stupid hat was right.

"So it's Gryffindor, then?"

_That's right. Trust me, it's where you belong. Ready?_

"Wait! Wait. I – Do I belong there because of me, or because of my family?"

_Because of you, Miss Potter._

"Then why keep calling me 'Miss Potter'? Why not just Lily?" I asked, because that had really annoyed me throughout our conversation.

It laughed. The hat actually laughed at me.

_OK, Lily. I am sorting you because of you, and you only. Ready?_

"OK. I'm ready."

_Good. Oh – and Lily? You're going to earn that fame. Be patient. GRYFFINDOR!_

The hat was pulled from my head, even though I wanted to ask about that last remark. With a slight smile directed at Hugo, I made my way to the Gryffindor table, where James and Al had left a space for me.

"That took forever." James said.

"We were talking." I replied, half-smiling.

"About what?" Al asked incredulously.

"Things. Now shh." I replied, my attention on the next sortee.

Even though half the attention was still on me, I relaxed. The hat said I was going to earn this, and I believe it. Even if I don't make a habit of listening to hats, usually.


	2. Hugo

Well I liked writing the first one, and I got good response on it - thanks for that - so I've decided to work my way through at least some of the next generation. So here's Hugo, and I'd love to know what you think of it.

Chapter 2 – Hugo

I shifted nervously, wishing that this ceremony could be private. Why can't we all go into a room, one by one, and be told there which house to go in? Why have to stand around out here, with everyone looking at us? Why do we then have to sit in front of everyone while a hat decides how our Hogwarts life will go?

Well, not our whole life, exactly. But the house'll be a big influence, won't it?

Beside me, Lily was frowning, and I know why. The staring, the whispering. It bothered her. But a small, selfish part of me is rather relieved that Lily is here with me, because if she wasn't there to attract all the attention, _I_ would be getting it. That much had been apparent from my bathroom trip on the train, when many pairs of eyes had watched my journey, with a couple of people even leaving their compartments to get a better look.

Yes. At me going to the bathroom. Welcome to my very public world.

We're only on the Gs. I sort of wish I was going early, because then it would just be over. But at the same time, I'd like to put it off for as long as possible. I sort of wish I was going before Lily, though, because we have a little pact to go in the same house. So, see, she's going to get sorted, and then I have to ask the hat to put me in her house. We decided it ages ago.

And it's a good plan, because I'd hate to have to do all this without her.

But...Well, I sort of regret ever agreeing to it. Not that I don't want to be in the same house as her. It's just that I'm the one playing sheep here. And while that wouldn't normally bother me – Lily's usually in charge – it's just that she's obviously going to get into Gryffindor. Easily. And, well, what if the hat refuses to put me there? I mean, just because it listened to where Uncle Harry asked it to put him, doesn't mean it'll put me in Gryffindor just 'cause I ask. If I'm not a Gryffindor, then it'll refuse. And then what? If I'm put somewhere else, Lily will be mad, 'cause she'll think I just went back on the pact. And when Lily's mad...well, I like to avoid it as much as possible.

Oh. When did we get to the Ns? When did that happen? Why was I not aware of all these people going and getting sorted? Do you know how close N is to W? Do you? I shift again, one foot to the other, because standing still seems to make me feel even more nervous. So I shift again, then again, and then realise that I look like I'm doing a little dance. Like the I-Need-To–Pee dance.

Stop, Hugo, stop.

"Parker, Elizabeth." Beside me, I felt Lily tense, and we both knew her name was way to close now. It's strange, that I'm nearly as nervous about _her_ sorting as I am about my own. But, I guess, since I'm supposed to follow her, her sorting is like mine. I think. Maybe if I ask someone, they'll let me just follow her to her table, no sorting needed.

Wow. That was pathetically naive, wasn't it?

"Potter, Lily."

I froze then, as the noise in the hall rose suddenly as everyone started talking. I nudged Lily forward auto-matically, even as my favourite cousin walked forward, carefully with her head slightly down. She's trying not to trip. That's a good plan.

She settled on the stool, and the hat was dropped over her head. She flinched suddenly, and I assumed the hat had spoken to her. Why that made her jump, I do not know, because we'd both known for years that the hat talked. My mum explained it when Teddy left, and then he told us about it when he came home for Christmas.

She was there for a long time, just sat with an oversize hat over her face. What's it doing? How hard can she be to sort? Lily Potter, Gryffindor. Easy.

It seemed like ages – though it probably was only a few minutes – before the hat finally opened its mouth – I mean, rip – and announced Gryffindor. Well, duh. Lily handed the hat back, then walked over to the Gryffindor table, sitting between her brothers, who instantly started whispering to her.

So now I have to talk the hat into putting me there. And somehow I don't think that'll be easy. Damn.

Rs now. That was quick. Ss take a little longer. Then Ts. Vs. One V. This place needs more Vs. There must be more Vs, right? There must be –

"Weasley, Hugo."

My knees are shaking. I'm walking careful, so as not to fall, but my knees are shaking so much I think they might just give way on me.

People are talking now, too. About me. The Weasley name is almost as famous as the Potter one, now, and so there's a loud noise level. And then I'm on the stool, and then the hat's over my face, and I hear nothing.

_Weasley. Ah._

The hat murmured it, and I was expecting it. Unsure what to say, I remained silent.

_There's a lot of you, nowadays, isn't there? How many are after you?_

"I'm the last one for a while." I replied. "Until my cousins start having more."

_I'll look forward to it then. Now, Hugo, where to put you?_

I know that it's really just asking itself, but this is my opening.

"Please, I'd like to go to Gryffindor. Where my cousins are, my sister, practically everyone I know."

_Ah. Well, Hugo, let me see... _

Oh. That doesn't sound all that good, does it?

_Well, I have to say, I rather think you would do well in Hufflepuff –_

"No way!"

_You don't like Hufflepuff?_

"It's not that – I mean I don't have anything against them – but I don't belong there."

_I see. And what makes you think that?_

"Well – well Gryffindor in my blood, isn't it? I mean, my whole family is in there-"

_I know that. But that doesn't mean it's where you belong –_

"You don't understand – I can't go to Hufflepuff. My cousin – Lily, Lily Potter – we've got this thing, right, this pact. Agreement. That we'd go into the same house. We've done everything together, you see, we're the same age, and we're best friends. So we agreed that we'd ask you – well, I'd ask you, since my name comes after hers – to put me in the same house as her. And, well, you put her in Gryffindor, so that's where I have to go."

_You understand, Hugo, that there will be a time when you have to do things alone? Without your cousin, or your sister or any of your family beside you? You'll have to learn –_

"I know. I know that. But – We agreed – I promised – You can't make me break a promise, can you?"

Ha. Winning argument.

_Ah, but you see, your loyalty to your cousin demonstrates just why you belong in Hufflepuff._

"No, no it doesn't – Well, I guess – No. I'm not going into Hufflepuff. Me and Lily made this thing ages ago, and I'm not going to break it. Put me in Gryffindor." And then, because I sounded quite aggressive, I added, "Please."

_There is some Gryffindor here. I do see that. But I stand by my decision –_

"No. Listen, you either put me in Gryffindor, or I'll just go home. I swear it. I'll leave." Sound desperate now, but, well, that's because I am.

_Hmm._ OK, so I know it's just a little sound, but I swear that hat sounded really amused.

_I suppose, if that's where you really want to go. You'll be fine there. GRYFFINDOR!_

Relived, I pulled the hat off me before it could change its mind, then headed over to the table, where Lily beamed at me, Al moved up so I could sit beside him, and Rose hugged me.

"Well done." My sister said, and I just nodded, and smiled back at Lily, and muttered a vague reply when James said that I'd taken a while, too.

But I watched that hat through the remaining sorting, and wished it had just listened to me and put me straight here, instead of arguing. Because now, I really can't help wondering if I should even be here at all.

"Knew you were a Gryffindor, kid." Fred said to me, as the final student took her seat at the Slytherin table. I forced a smile, but felt like such a fraud.

I am a Gryffindor. I _am_.


	3. James

Thanks for all the feedback on this, love you all.

Chapter 3 – James

I wish Teddy was here. You know if I was one year older – or he was one year younger – he'd be right over there, sat at the Gryffindor table, and I'd feel a lot better.

Course, it'd be impossible for Teddy to be a year younger, because his parents would have already been dead. And as far as I know, dead people can't have kids.

That sounded awful didn't it? Like I'm joking about Teddy's dead parents. Honestly, I'm not. I can't imagine what's it like, and I feel sorry for him because of it – not that I'll admit it to him. He hates pity, Teddy. Really, really hates it. Probably because he gets it so often.

It's not like I'm totally alone. I've got a million cousin scattered around this place. Well, when I say scattered, they're all at the Gryffindor table. And when I say millions, it's actually a lot less than that. But sometimes it feels like millions, when we all get together. And sometimes – just sometimes – the big family gatherings feel a lot like getting lost in the crowd.

Not that I mind, exactly. But, you know, sometimes it's a little hard to breathe.

But anyway, Teddy's always been like a big brother to me, and him not being here just makes it worse, somehow.

Everyone's looking at me. Can't say I blame them. Were I _not_ Harry and Ginny Potter's son, famous blood in my veins, I would be _staring_ at Harry and Ginny Potter's son, famous blood in his veins.

However, I am, and therefore I'm getting attention. Used to it, of course. I've seen my own face splashed across the Daily Prophet, and various magazines, more times than I care to count. The Prophet ran a three page article the day I was born, for crying out loud!

My grandma still has the whole entire paper, tucked away in a drawer, along with the ones announcing Al and Lily's births. And Rose and Hugo's – couple of pages each – and the rest of my cousins, who had considerably less written about them, but still made the papers due to the family being war heroes and all.

I shivered, despite it not being cold. Not, of course, that I'm nervous. I mean, the whole entire family is in Gryffindor, there's no chance that I'll go anywhere else. Not me, James Sirius Potter, son of the famous defeater of Voldemort, _and_ the famous Quidditch player/Sports writer.

No chance.

None at all.

But...uh...What'll happen if I don't get in? Fred'll never let me live it down. Al will never shut up about it. What if I end up in Slytherin? Can you imagine that? James Sirius Potter in Slytherin?

No. No, it's bound to be Gryffindor. Bound to be.

"Looks a lot like Harry Potter, doesn't he?" Someone whispered nearby. One of my fellow first years, I assume. Ah. Great. I look a lot like my father, apparently. Wait till Al get's here. He looks more like dad than I do. They'll be calling him "Harry" and everything.

That'll be fun. Little Al having an identity crisis. I'll have to make sure to watch that.

Not, of course, that I'll enjoy watching my little brother have a breakdown. But, you know, it'll probably be funny. And then I'll help him over it. Honest.

We're only on the Gs. I just want this to be over. Just want to eat. Want to go to sleep.

Want to be in Gryffindor, because I don't know what I'll do if I'm not. I've wanted to be there my whole life. And if I'm not...

No. I will be. No doubt about it.

Do you think it'll be in the Prophet tomorrow? _James Potter, Gryffindor_. Or _Harry Potter's son, Gryffindor._

Yeah, the second one's more likely. How many pages do you think it'll take up? I bet Grandma will keep the whole paper.

Bless. She's great, my Grandma you know. She's like, a typical grandma, all mothery and stuff, but she can make you do anything, anything at all, because she can be scary sometimes. You don't mess with _my _Grandma. And – _and_ – she killed a Death Eater, you know. Bellatrix Lestrange, who was one of the worst Death Eaters ever. She tortured Neville's parents, you know, and she killed my dad's godfather – Sirius, that's where my middle name comes from –and she killed Teddy's mum, too. And when Grandma started fighting with her, it was because she'd been duelling my mum and Aunt Hermione and Luna.

See? My Grandma's way better than yours.

Huh. Haven't been very many Gryffindors for a while, and we're all the way down to L now. Maybe the hat doesn't like Gryffindors this year. Do you think he gets like a quota or something? Like, we want twenty Hufflepuffs this year, and no more or less. That kind of thing.

No. Course not. I'm a Gryffindor, and that's where I'll be.

Ooh. That was an O. An _O_. O is the letter before P, isn't it? I think. Yeah, it is. ...I-J-K-L-M-N-O-P...

Yep. Definitely know my alphabet. And that means –

"Potter, James."

The noise level rose to almost painful, but I ignored it best I could and managed to walk forward without passing out, though I felt all the blood rush to my head. Damn the easy blush. It's my dad's fault. He blushes easy too. Do you think if I looked less like him, more like mum, I'd have her ability to _not_ blush? Lily looks a lot like mum, and she doesn't blush as easy as me. Damn the random genes.

I sat on the ancient stool, and let someone drop the hat on my head. It fell all the way over my face, and you've got to wonder just how big a head this hat used to belong to.

_Actually, Godric's head was normal size, for a fully grown man. It just so happens that eleven-year-olds have smaller heads that fully grown men._

I managed not to cry out at the voice, but it was close. I mean, I knew the hat would talk to me, but still...

"Sorry – I didn't mean anything by it-"

_It's fine, Mr Potter._

It sounded kinda amused, actually.

_Now, Mr Potter. I think I know where you belong –_

Oh, no.

"Wait – wait – just hear me out, OK? My whole family's been in Gryffindor, and I can't be the one who isn't, and you have to remember that I'm only eleven and maybe I haven't done anything really brave yet, but I will, I swear I will one day and I really am a Gryffindor – I am -"

_Mr Potter –_

"And you have to remember, I mean, I've got the Gryffindor genes, haven't I? And I'm not a Ravenclaw, and I'm not a Hufflepuff, and I'm definitely not a Slytherin, so you see, you don't have much choice – I mean, I mean that's not a threat or anything, but I just – just don't belong anywhere else, and -" And then I broke off, because the hat – _the hat_ – was laughing. Laughing at me. A hat. At me. Can you believe it?

_Mr Potter, I am aware of all that. _He said, the humour still in his voice.

"You – you are?"

_Yes. I can see into your head, don't forget. I am aware that you are not a Slytherin, or a Hufflepuff, or a Ravenclaw. I saw it the moment they put me on you, Mr Potter. You are a Gryffindor._

"I am? I – I mean – I know I am. I've got the genes."

_It's not the genes, Mr Potter. It has nothing to do with your parents._

"Really?"

_Really. You are a Gryffindor because of you, regardless of your parents. You will learn, James, that it is not your family that defines you._

"I...Don't know what else defines me." I murmured finally.

_You'll learn. I can see that. Now, are you ready?_

"Yes. Yes, I'm ready."

_Very well. GRYFFINDOR!_

The hat was pulled off of me before I could thank it, but I swear it was laughing a little as it left me. Laughed at by a hat, of all things.

I sat next to Fred at the table, and he hit me on the back, and then the others were congratulating me.

"Well done, James." Victoire smiled. "Were you nervous?"

"Nah." I replied with a shrug. "Always knew I'd end up here."


	4. Albus

Again, thanks for the response. I like writing these, so I'm glad people like reading them.

Chapter 4 – Albus

What's that phrase, butterflies in the stomach? Something like that, isn't it? You know, I've heard it before, and never really understood it. It just didn't make any sense to me at all. And I'd wonder, once in a while, just how anyone would even know what it felt like to _have_ butterflies in the stomach. Unless you eat them. Alive. And why on earth would _anyone_ swallow butterflies? It just makes no sense at all.

Until now. Not the swallowing live butterflies thing – that still makes no sense at all to me. But the butterflies-in-the-stomach thing makes sense now. It's the fluttery feeling, like tiny wings flapping in your belly. Nerves.

Right now, I've got that live-butterflies-that-are-really-nerves feeling.

Damn James and his Albus-in-Slytherin theory. I know he's just messing with me, but still, can you imagine a Potter in Slytherin? Or a Weasley, for that matter? I think I'd just faint, right there on that little stool, and then everyone would be talking about it for years.

What if it put me in Slytherin and I died of shock? Can you imagine? Harry Potter's youngest son killed by a sorting hat?

Would I be a ghost, do you think? I don't really understand why some wizards become ghosts and some don't. I'll have to ask one of the Hogwarts ghosts sometime. That is, of course, if I survive my sorting.

What if I get put in Slytherin, and my Uncle Ron dies of shock?

What if my dad does? Or my grandma? What if the sorting hat manages to wipe out my whole family? What if my whole family _except_ for me dies? What then? Where will I go? Who will look after me? What will –

Stop, Albus, breathe. Breathe. Breathe. OK. I'm breathing. I'm calm.

Nerves don't agree with me, apparently. Nerves make me panicky and irrational. I wish I was more like James. Nothing ever bothers him. I've never seen him panic, get all weird and irrational and have to remind himself to breathe.

If I was more like James, I'd be stood here, all calm and probably even a little bit bored. I'd be just waiting for my turn, certain that I'd be sent to Gryffindor, knowing that there's no way in hell I'd go anywhere else.

But I'm not James. I'm me, and I'm very close to hyperventilating.

God, why does this thing take so long? I mean, if I could just get the hat on my head, get sorted, get it over with, I wouldn't keep forgetting to breathe, would I?

You know, breathing is supposed to be automatic. Unless, of course, you're me, and sometimes you panic, and suddenly find that unless you put some thought into breathing, you'll stop.

Is it normal for people to whisper so much during the sorting? It seems kinda rude, you know? That we're all stood here, nervous and stuff, and everyone out there is whispering and point and...and...

They're pointing at me. Oh. Well, I should've seen that coming, shouldn't I? I am, after all, Harry Potter's son.

Can't get more famous than that. Unless, of course, you happen to _be_ Harry Potter.

I stop looking at the crowd then, because I don't like being stared at. Not that it'll help me, because I've just noticed that my fellow first years are staring too. Apart from Rose, of course, who is instead staring at the hat, looking rather pale.

Rose is nervous? Rose, who is almost as calm as James? Who, whenever I've admitted my own nerves over the last few months, has simply told me that the hat will put me where I belong, and that worrying will do no good?

Rose is nervous. And if Rose is nervous, then surely I have something to worry about?

If Rose is worried about where she'll be sorted, I should be terrified. I am terrified. Oh, no, what if the hat can't sort me at all? What if it just tells me I don't belong anywhere? What if –

Breath, Al, breath. In, out. In, out.

There. Better.

If I don't get sorted soon, I think I'll end up passing out.

"He looks even more like Harry Potter than his brother does." Someone at a nearby table whispered loudly, and I rolled my eyes. This is a common occurrence.

Does this mean everyone's going to expect me to be like dad? Because I'm not, you know. I can't imagine being able to figure out all the stuff he did, in his first year, and being able to defeat Voldemort in just a few months time. That's impossible. I can't imagine being able to kill a giant snake and rescuing my best friend's little sister –

Well, actually, I don't have a best friend with a little sister. Rose is my best friend, and she just has Hugo. Who is a boy.

Anyway.

"Another Gryffindor, do you think?" Someone – the same one, I think – muttered at that table.

"Maybe. Probably. Not gonna be a Slytherin, is he?"

"Ha. Doubt it. Don't look anything like a Slytherin, that one. He'd last about five minutes in that house, then they'd eat him alive."

Laughter, hastily stifled.

Last five minutes? Oh, would I really? You know, I may not be Harry Potter, but I am his son. I'd be able to hold my own in that house.

If, of course, I decided I wanted to be there. Which I don't.

"Malfoy, Scorpius."

I recognised him, from where my dad and Uncle Ron had been looking earlier. He looked paler now, and I guess that nerves. Or maybe it's just the lighting in here, because he didn't look at all nervous as he walked forward, sat on the stool, and let the hat drop over his face.

I expected it to scream Slytherin instantly. Instead, it seemed to be taking a while to decide. So long, in fact, that I glanced at Rose, surprised. She, however, didn't look at me, her eyes still glued to the hat. What, is she trying to telepathically communicate with it?

Before I could nudge her and ask what she was doing, the hat opened it's – uh – rip, and yelled "Slytherin". No surprise there, then.

The boy handed the hat back, and then walked over to the table, his face blank.

Then, see, I was distracted. Because it just occurred to me that M is very close to P in the alphabet. And my surname is begins with a P.

Oh, no, that's way too close, I'll be sorted in a matter of minutes, and – and –

And breath, Al, for crying out loud.

If James could hear my thoughts now – both the panicky irrational ones, and the reminders to breath, he'd probably hit me round the head.

Wouldn't blame him, either.

And then I realised that I hadn't been paying attention at all to the names being read out. And it's a good job I realised when I did, because the next name was mine.

"Potter, Albus."

I barely even noticed everyone whispering, louder and louder, because all I could think about was what the hat would say, where it would put me.

I sat on the stool let the hat be dropped over my head. And waited.

_Ah. Another Potter. Seems just yesterday I talked to your brother._

"It...ah...it was a year ago." I murmured, because it seemed to expect a reply, and what else can you say to a statement like that?

_I know. But I remember all the sortings I've ever done. Even your father's._

"My – my dad's? But that was – uh..."

_A lot of years ago, I know. But I remember it. However, we're here to talk about you, not your father._

I didn't reply to that, because I didn't know what to say.

_Ah. Your father has told you, then, that I will take your choice into account._

"Oh. Uh, yeah, he did."

_I see. Tell me, then, Albus Potter, where do you want to go?_

"I...uh...I don't know." I replied, then remembered what those boys had said while I waited. "Maybe Slytherin. Just to prove I could manage it." I told it.

_Really? And here I was, thinking you'd be just as opposed to Slytherin as your father was._

"Er...You don't like being told where to put people, do you?" I asked, because that's the way it seemed to me.

_Not really. You'd think, after all these years, students would trust me to put them where they belong, wouldn't you?_

Still, he sounded more amused than mad.

"What about my dad? I mean, if he'd been in Slytherin, everything would have been different, wouldn't it?" I asked carefully.

_Maybe. But your father was a special case, Albus. You must know the story –_

"Voldemort's soul, I know. OK, well I've only got _my_ soul. So where do you think I should be?"

He was silent for a long while, and I thought maybe he hadn't heard me. Then he spoke.

_Not Slytherin. I don't think you'd do well in there at all._

"So it's Gryffindor then?" I asked flatly.

_You don't want Gryffindor?_

"I...I don't know. I thought I did, but...well, I sort of want to see what people would say if I...wasn't..."

_But you understand, I trust, that those are all the wrong reasons to want a different house._

"Yeah. I know. OK, listen, put me where ever you think I should be. I trust you."

_You trust me? You trust easily, Albus Potter._

What was that supposed to mean? "Is that a bad thing?" I asked. He paused before answering.

_Time will tell. GRYFFINDOR!_

The last shout surprised me, and abruptly ended the conversation, as the hat was pulled from me instantly. Blinking, I looked at the hat – but now it was still and lifeless – and then had little choice but to head to the Gryffindor table, where James had saved me a spot.

"Hey, little brother." He said brightly. "You took a while. Trying to talk it out of putting you in Slytherin?"

He was smirking, but I shook my head.

"Trying to talk it _into_ putting me in Slytherin, actually." I replied. James looked at me for a moment, then laughed.

"Uh-huh. Sure. You're no Slytherin little brother."

Well, that seems to be the popular opinion, anyway.


	5. Rose

Well, I'm going to do Teddy or Scorpius next, and then the other after, and I think that'll be the end of this, because I don't think I'll have the ideas for all the next generation.

Chapter 5 – Rose

I am Rose Weasley. I am the daughter of the famous Hermione and Ron Weasley, war heroes. I do not get nervous.

Yeah. Right. Well I find that hard to believe.

What is there even to be nervous about? You sit on a stool, put a hat on your head, and it yells out a word. Simple.

OK, so I'm nervous about which word it's going to yell out.

Gryffindor, the home of the brave, where my family have been, are now, and will be?

Ravenclaw, the home of the smart, where people I know were?

Hufflepuff, the home of the loyal, where glory scarcely touches, however much deserved?

Slytherin, home of cunning, where bad wizards dwell and no one would expect me to be?

Well, let's see. Slytherin I ain't. I'm the worst liar I know, so there goes cunning.

But the rest...well, I think I could fit right into the other houses.

Beside me, Al's eyes are darting around wildly, and I hear him suddenly breathing, slow and deep. He has to ditch that habit, because one day he'll forget to remind himself to breathe. Still, I'm glad he's here, right beside me.

See, Al thinks I'm the strong one. That I'm the dependable one, the one who'll always be there to take charge, to calm him down – remind him to breathe when he forgets – to get him through anything. But really, I rely on him just as much as he relies on me. He's like a brother, sometimes more than Hugo is. That's probably because Hugo's younger, and right now we just don't have a lot in common. He's still into playing with action figures and stuff.

I can't take my eyes of the stupid hat. Why? I don't know. But I just can't look away from it. It's a raggedy thing, and you'd think they'd be able to magically fix it up a little. Maybe they think it adds to the atmosphere, the authenticity of it.

Pff. Half the castle's almost-brand new. A better looking hat wouldn't make much difference.

You know, I wasn't at all nervous until they started reading names out. And then suddenly...bam. It was like the bottom of my stomach dropping out, like my blood running cold, like...

"Malfoy, Scorpius."

Ooh. My attention left the hat for a moment, to watch the boy, slightly taller than me, pale and blond and expressionless, stride forward. I know who he is. I mean, not personally, but I know of his family. And Teddy knows him, because he's Teddy's cousin...or something more complex. But I've never really met him, though Teddy says he's a nice kid. Which, usually, would be enough to convince me, but in this case I think I'll reserve judgment.

It's strange that his face is so blank. Emotionless. I guess he's one of those people who doesn't like everyone to know what he's thinking. Fair enough.

He sat down, let the hat drop over his face, and there was silence – almost – in the hall as we waited. I remember my dad's stories of his own sorting. While most of them involve dragons and trolls and stuff, a few months ago he did tell us the real story, and he mentioned that Draco Malfoy – Scorpius' dad – was sorted within a milli-second. So I expected the same here.

But it took a few minutes. Not overly long, but a few all the same. Then the hat yelled Slytherin; no one looked surprised, and Scorpius handed the hat back, striding over to the table with his face still blank...except...

I swear, just for a second when he first took the hat off, there was something...

Disappointment. It looked like disappointment, but why on earth would a Malfoy be –

I heard Al draw in another quick breath, and smiled a little in spite of myself. Then my smile faded, because it'll be _my_ sorting soon, and that's no laughing matter.

I could hear people whispering about Al, and wondered if anyone was looking at me. Not that I'm vain or anything, but my parents are pretty famous too, so I was just wondering...

I glanced around the tables, and spotted James, who caught my eye and smiled at me. If Al's like my close-to-my-own-age brother, James is definitely my big brother.

I then spent a few minutes – to distract myself – picking out all the red-heads at the table. Because mostly they're relatives, not because I have a strange fascination with red hair. A couple I'm not related to, though, which is good, because I hate people to think it was a Weasley/Potter-only kind of thing.

And then I was distracted from my distraction process by Al's name being read out. I felt him tense a little before he started forward – if there had been time, I'd have murmured good luck, but he walked rather quickly.

He, too, settled on the stool, and the hat was dropped over his head. I figured it'd yell Gryffindor instantly, but it didn't. Huh. If I didn't know any better, I'd say it was taking it's time just to prove me wrong.

There was a lot of whispering now. More than before, as students discussed Al, and obviously they'd assumed his sorting would only take a few seconds, too. I looked at the Gryffindor table again, saw James talking quietly to Fred. He looked a little worried, actually, although he was hiding it well. Still, it's sweet that he was worried.

The way James and Al are together makes me wish I had an older brother, too. A proper one, I mean. Or, even better, an older sister. Because while Lily's often like a little sister to me, it's not the same. And me and Hugo don't have the same dynamic as James and Al, either.

I hope we'll be closer when he's a bit older.

Finally, a rip near the brim of the hat opened, and it called out the word we'd all expected; Al stood, pulling off the hat and handing it back, looking thoughtful as he head over to the Gryffindor table. He exchanged a few words with James, then they both turned their attention back towards us. There was only a handful of us left now, and that made me even more nervous.

Soon it'll be over, and everything will be OK. Soon it'll be over, and everything will be OK. Soon it'll be over, and everything –

What if everything isn't OK? I'm not sure what the worst than can happen is, but what if...

"Weasley, Rose."

Oh, no.

I focussed on my breathing, trying calm myself and empty my head as I walked forward, because I don't want the hat seeing _too _much.

I was shaking a little bit as I sat down, I reached up a hand to help guide the hat onto my head, just because I felt I ought to be doing something. And then I waited.

_Ah. Another Weasley, I see._

"Um, yeah. Yes."

_Ah. Now this is easy._

"It – it is?" I asked nervously. "Um...Why?"

_I don't expect you to understand, Rose Weasley. You are still too young to completely understand yourself. But it is very clear to me which house you belong...although..._

"Although?" I prompted.

_You are very like your mother, Rose Weasley._

"My dad says that all the time."

_You are like him, too, a little. But I see a lot of your mother in you, and the same thing I told her on her sorting applies here, too._

"And – and that was...?"

_You could fit very neatly into Ravenclaw. I do believe, also, you would enjoy entering their common-room, and you would get on well with the others in that house._

"I...I would? So – so you want to put me in Ravenclaw?" I'm not sure how I feel about that.

_Mixed feelings, I see. No, Rose Weasley, I do not wish to place you in Ravenclaw. Your brains are almost a perfect match to your mother, but, like her, I don't think you truly belong in Ravenclaw. You would fit there very well...But I know where to put you. Where you would fit best._

"And...that is..."

_I think you know, Rose Weasley. I can see, remember, all your thoughts and feelings. You know where you belong, just as much as I do._

Well, I have a good idea, but I don't want to say, in case I'm wrong. So instead, I asked; "I do?"

_Yes, you do. I'm sure this won't be a surprise. Enjoy your time here._

"I -"

_GRYFFINDOR._

OK, I admit, I'm relieved. I passed the hat back, amidst the clapping and cheering, and headed over to the table, smiling at Al and James.

"Took less time than Al's did." James commented, shifting up to make room for me. "Well done, Rosie."

"James – it's Rose." I told him, though without much conviction. I have a feeling James will never stop with the childish nickname.

"Yeah, yeah." James muttered, rolling his eyes. "Nearly over now – good, I'm starving..."

And then I sat back, and smiled. Already I know the hat was right – this is where I belong.


	6. Scorpius

Chapter 6 – Scorpius

Nice castle. Dad never said it was this impressive. Of course, a lot of it had to be rebuilt, so maybe that's why.

But the hall's still the same, isn't it? This wasn't destroyed. No, you can feel it, feel the history.

You know, this is where they stored the bodies of a while. Weird, right? This is the place we _eat._ Kinda gross.

I'm kinda bored, too. Stood around in silence, while people try on a hat, one after the other. I'm not even nervous to take the edge of the bordem.

Why am I not nervous? Because I'm a Malfoy. Slytherin's in my blood. Everyone knows that the hat'll take one look at me and send me over there.

Not sure how I feel about that, really. The house isn't like it was when my dad was there, but there's still some prejudice. And I'll get enough of anyway, what with my surname. Maybe if I had the choice, I'd want to be somewhere else. But as a Malfoy, the choice is already made. Hardwired into me.

Speaking of prejudice, there's about a foot of space around me. Ha. Looks like lots of mummies and daddies warned their little kiddies about the Big Bad Malfoy. Jeez, I barely know how to hold a wand, what am I going to do?

Honestly, you have a dad and a grandfather who just happened to be Death Eaters, not to mention a crazy great-aunt, and suddenly everyone's afraid of you. I'm sure a lot of these have crazy relatives. It's not like _I_ sent Great-Aunt Bella crazy, is it?

They should give us chairs. Instead of making up stand. I ache all over. Trains don't agree with me, really, and the boats...Well, I was just getting over the travel sickness, when they forced us into tiny boats, on a storm-tossed lake, where I was thrown all over the place, smashing into the sides of the boat. I'll be covered in bruises tomorrow. And it was raining, so I'm soaked through. And instead of letting us change, and sit, and eat, they make us stand around, cold and tired and hungry. You know, they could just say; "pick a house and sit."

But no. Let's go the stupidly complex way.

You know, I'm really not enjoying this. If only my grandfather had some influence around here still. Maybe one day I'll be head of this place, and I'll make it loads better. Can you imagine how many parents wouldn't let their kids come here if _I_ was in charge? Place would be empty.

A little way away, Albus Potter's stood, pale and nervous looking, beside Rose Weasley, who's staring at the hat so hard it looks like she's trying to burn holes in it. How do I know their names? Well, it's easy enough to find out. You open the Daily Prophet and about half the time they'll be some little mention of The Great Harry Potter, with his kids' names slotted in. Sometimes they'll mention the Weasley kids, too. So they're not hard to recognise. Plus, I saw my dad look over at Harry Potter. And I can connect the dots.

I suddenly realised I'm staring at them. Whoops. Well, everyone else is too, it's not like I'm alone in the curiosity. Potter doesn't look so special. Kind of expect him to look all confident and obnoxious, don't you, what with his dad and all. But no, the guy looks terrified.

I shifted my gaze back to the hat, and wondered why it was taking so long with this particular girl. Obviously a Ravenclaw. Can tell a mile off. It ought to take three seconds for the hat to yell it out –

"SLYTHERIN!" OK. Maybe she's not a Ravenclaw. But, hey, I never claimed to _be_ the sorting hat, did I? I'm allowed to be wrong.

Slytherin table's looking a little empty, actually. I guess a lot of kids don't want to be there. Well, it's OK. With any luck I'll get a dorm all to myself. I really don't want to have to share. I've never shared a room in my life. Well, maybe when I was a baby my cot was in my parents' room. But I'm not sure, and that doesn't really count, does it? Anyway, I'm used to having my room at home all to myself. Where I can scatter my stuff all around, and arrange the furniture just how I want it.

But here, I'll be sharing a room with up to five others. _Five_. Privacy, it seems, is a thing of the past. If I scatter my stuff, as I'm prone to, it'll get mixed up with other peoples. If I try to arrange the furniture, they're bound to complain.

They'd definitely complain, because if I was arranging the furniture four beds would end up in the hallway.

It's not going to be fun here, is it?

With a sigh that I didn't bother to conceal – and which caused the girl near me to shoot me a nervous look and shuffle further away, I rubbed my eyes, as though tired. Hint hint, sorting hat. Speed up, will you?

Slow sorting. Really slow sorting. Quick sorting. Slow. Quick. Quick. Slow. About ten minutes. Jeez, it can't be that hard, can it?

Maybe I could just slip away...sit at the Slytherin table...no one'll notice...

Step back. And another.

Loud gasp. I turned around in time to see a short boy scurrying away from me, almost knocking a girl over as he did so. She, too, looked at me in fear.

But the girl beside her looked at her, and the short boy, and rolled her eyes. At least some people have a decent amount of brain cells.

Honestly, if they don't all get over the Malfoy-fear soon, I'll start jinxes random people, just to earn the fear.

What letter are we on now? Doesn't look like I'll make it all the way over to the table...J. OK, I can work with J. Can't be that many J, K or L surnames, can there? Of that many Ms that come before me. OK, not too long to wait. Not too long at all.

She looks spoilt, that Rose Weasley. Like she's used to getting what she wants. So does Potter, come to think of it. Huh. Figures. The whole wide world loves the Potters, the Weasleys.

The whole wide world hates the Malfoys. Do you know how much I wish I was muggle-born? To be able to start here with a brand new surname, a clear past? People who judge me because of _me_, not because of my dad, or my granddad, or my crazy great-aunt?

"Malfoy, Scorpius."

My head snapped up, because that was a surprise. Me, already?

I walked forward, not shaking or nervous like the others. Without any emotion on my face. They see what you're feeling, they'll use it against you.

Sit on the stool. Hat over the eyes. And wait.

_Ah. Well, isn't this a surprise?_

"I'm a surprise? My parents said I was planned..." That wasn't even funny. What's wrong with me?

_I confess, Scorpius, I rather expected you to be just like them._

"Like who? My dad?"

_Yes. He was so like your grandfather. And he, like his father before him. Generations, Scorpius, all the same, all Slytherins. But you..._

"I'm not the same?"

_No. And you know it, don't you? You're different, Scorpius Malfoy. I'm not sure where exactly to put you._

Can you imagine my dad's face if I wrote home to tell him I was a Hufflepuff? That would be funny, bet you.

_A range of qualities, I see. A range of faults, too._

"Thank...you...?" I'm not if the hat just insulted me, or complimented me. Maybe both. Smart.

_Tricky. It's always more fun this way. Let's see..._

"Look, just put me in Slytherin, OK?" I said finally. A little panicky. I'm prepared for Slytherin. I won't know what to do if I end up somewhere else.

_Slytherin?_

"Yeah. Slytherin. It's where I belong. You said it yourself, my family's been in the there for generations."

_Is it where you belong, Scorpius, or where you're expected to be?_

"I...Both. It's both. Just put me there, OK? It's where...Just put me there."

The hat was silent for a long time. Well, it felt like a long time. And then – without any more discussion, without another word to me, it just yelled out its choice to the hall.

"SLYTHERIN!"

I pulled the hat off, without any surprise. It's where I'm expected to be, isn't it? Where I'm supposed to be. Where I...

Quickly, I pushed the disappointment away, made my face blank again, and headed to the table, careful to choose a spot where no one was sat on either side of me.

This is right. This is where I belong. I'm prepared for this.

I guess I just expected the hat to argue more. Expected it to ignore me. It said I was different, but then put me here...

So what? I'm Scorpius, not Draco, not Lucius. Doesn't matter where they put me, I'm still me.

This could work. This will work. I'm Scorpius Malfoy, Slytherin, and I can do anything I want.


	7. Teddy

Well, this was difficult. I seem to be uninspired, lately. Blame it on my upcoming exams (they are a cruel and unnecessary). Anyway, I got it out finally, and I'm quite pleased with the way it ended up. It isn't really how I usually write him, but I like it.

So, since this is the end, I just need to thank all my reviewers. Thank you.

Chapter 7 – Teddy

I wonder how many of these are orphans. There must be some, right? My kind of age group, some of them must have lost parents?

There aren't that many of us. I guess most people didn't want to have kids in the middle of a war. Next year, and the few years after it, will be huge, though, due to the post-war baby boom. The end of the war, the brush with death, seemed to convince everyone there was no use waiting to procreate.

But as for my year, we're a small group. I figure we're either the ones who were already on the way by Dumbledore's death and Voldemort's big power-gain, or from parents who didn't want to risk waiting. Or we're accidents.

That's me. A surprise, Grandma always says, but I'm not stupid. "Surprise" is a euphemism for "accident". Though I figure my parents must have been pretty surprised.

This'll have to be a conversation I have with my classmates. Were you an accident?

Oh yes, Teddy, I can see us making lots of friends that way.

I scanned the people at the tables, wishing I actually knew someone here. You'd think, with all the Weasleys, they'd have had someone already here, wouldn't you?

At least Victoire'll be here next year. Though she might still not be talking to me then. I promised her that we'd still be friends and everything, that I wouldn't forget her, but she's still mad. It's not my fault she was born a year after me, is it? And as for her suggestion that I just wait, and come here with her, and just be a year older than my classmates, well, that was just stupid.

Girls.

I'll have to take her something home for Christmas, something from the castle. What, I don't know. Maybe I can sneak a plate or candle-stick or something. Not, of course, that I'm in the habit of stealing, but it's not like Hogwarts has a gift-shop, is it? And I can't have her not talking to me. All the other kids are younger than us, and even Monique is still a little kid.

No, I'll just have to take something home. Surely they won't mind? Harry said the plates and stuff are solid gold.

Maybe I won't steal a whole plate, actually. I don't think any of the adults at home would be very pleased. I'll take a fork or a spoon, and she can hide it. She could even return it when she comes here, and then it's like I'm borrowing it, not stealing it.

I love loopholes.

And if she doesn't forgive me? Well, that just makes her stupid, doesn't it, and so there's no point in us even being mates.

My parents died here. Well, so everyone says. I guess there's a little possibility that they're lying. That my parents ran away to join the circus or something. But I doubt it. They died fighting. Outside. To be honest, I was kinda worried that...I don't know, that I'd see blood or something on the grass. Theirs. But that's stupid, I know.

Still. And then their bodies was dragged in here, and laid out, and then moved. For all I know, I could be stood on the very spot my parents' dead bodies were lain.

Sometimes, I sort of wish they'd left the details out of this story.

Heavy on the Slytherins this year. Wonder if that's where I'll end up. Wonder if Grandma'll cry if I do. I don't know much about her family, but I know enough. And even if she and Aunt Cissy made up and everything, I think me going into Slytherin would upset her. Hmm. She was Slytherin herself. Mum was Hufflepuff, dad Gryffindor, and my granddad, also deceased, was Ravenclaw. That's every house covered, so I guess I could end up anywhere.

Honestly, none of the houses sound all that great. I mean, Slytherins are meant to be evil. Gryffindors are brave. Ravenclaws are smart and Hufflepuffs are loyal. Evil is a bad thing, apparently. Bravery often equals stupidity, I've heard. Smart means I'd have to study lots. And loyalty...well, to who?

If the founders had really though it through, they'd have picked some better qualities. Or they'd just not have bothered with houses, because when you think about it, it seems a little stupid to create this awesome school, then make half the students had each other because of the house they're put in.

But that's the problem with the world. So many of the people in it are stupid.

I kinda need to pee. Just a little bit, and hopefully it'll fade, because as far as I know you're supposed to stay in the hall and eat, not disappear and get lost looking for the bathroom. Am starving, too. Stupid apparation laws. If we could just apparate here, then we could be sorted, have eaten, and be all settled in by now. But no. We take a train for most of the day, end up here in the cold cover of darkness, having to wait around for our sorting while tired, hungry, and faintly needing to pee.

Traditions. There's a lot less point in them than you think.

And now we're on the Ls. When did that happen? Well, it's about time.

"Lupin, Teddy."

And that would be me. I walked forward, heard a few whispers as people caught sight of my hair. Since my Grandma wanted me to have a "normal" shade, for my first day at least, we compromised by going dark brown with blue streaks. It looks, if I do say so myself, awesome.

And then there were a few more whispers as people realised I am, in fact, Harry Potter's godson.

Actually, you know, that's not true. I mean, that's what my parents wanted. And that's what he introduces me as – "my godson, Teddy." But in actual fact, it was never really made official. There was no ceremony of any kind, and so if you want to be technical, he isn't my godfather. Which, obviously, means I'm not his godson.

Anyway. Sit on stool, hat on head.

_Ah. Well isn't this interesting?_

"I am?"

_Yes. You don't like this, do you, Teddy? This ceremony – the traditions Hogwarts still holds. You think they're outdated, yes?_

"Yes." I admitted. "It all seems so pointless."

_I see. Traditions, Teddy, are there for a reason. And I think you know. Tell me, if things here are so pointless, why were you so eager to come here? Why are you, even now, eager to explore the castle?_

"I want to find a bathroom. I need to pee."

_Teddy, I can see your thoughts. Please remember that. Now, I think your determination to find fault with everything – everyone, even is for protection. A defence mechanism, one might say._

"Defence from what?" I replied, sceptical.

_You, Teddy Lupin, are afraid of disappointment._

"Oh, come on, that's the stupidest fear I've ever heard of!"

_Your parents left you. They let you down, didn't they, running away and dying like that, instead of staying around to bring you up? _

"Of course they let me down. Parents are supposed to be around, to love you and look after you and drive you crazy and make you hate them. They're not supposed to end up as dead war heroes."

_And the time you were six, when you had an argument with your grandmother, and told Harry Potter that you wanted to live with him, he let you down, didn't he Teddy, by refusing? By taking you back to your grandmother's?_

I remained silent. I don't like this. The hat's supposed to sort me, not analyse me.

_That's why, since then, you make a point of telling everyone he isn't your godfather really, isn't it? Because that way, he seems less important. And if he's less important, you won't believe he can fix anything – and so you won't be let down again._

"I...I'm not stupid. No one can fix anything. And – and that's not why – maybe I just want people to have all the facts -"

_And you convince yourself that your friend Victoire is just a silly little girl, that her anger and hurt aren't really valid, or important, because that way, if she never forgives you, it's not really as though you lost your best friend in the world, is it?_

"That's not – I'm not -"

_And you tell yourself that the sorting is a stupid, outdated tradition, because that way you won't be disappointed by the house I place you in. You see my point, now, Teddy? How you protect yourself against disappointment? You do it well, I must say, but is it healthy to have such a cynical mind?_

"It's perfectly healthy. Pessimists are never disappointed." I told him. Which is, of course, perfectly true.

_You will be disappointed again, Teddy. You cannot get through life without it. But do you have the strength to overcome it? If your Victoire doesn't forgive you, will you be able to accept what she means to you, and cope with the disappointment? Because you may be able to easily lie to yourself, but you'll find you don't often believe as well as you think._

"I...I..."

_I think you have the strength. The guts._

"I...Is she going to forgive me? Victoire?"

_I see into minds, Teddy, not the future. But I think she will. She means a great deal to you – bonds like that are rarely one-way. Are you ready to be sorted now?_

"Yes."

_I'll try not to disappoint, then. GRYFFINDOR! _

Bravery. Which equals stupidity. Maybe I ought to be insulted. I passed the hat back, walked over to the table, wondering if the hat was right. About everything. About me being scared of disappointment, about me having the strength to cope with it.

Probably not. I hope we're eating soon, I'm starving. And I still need to pee. You'd think we'd get a bathroom break.


	8. Victoire

OK, I know I said I was done with this, but it turns out I wasn't. This is still one of my favourite stories (of my own, that is) and I still enjoyed writing this, which means there could be more chapters...though I'm not entirely certain. But if I do add more to this, it won't be for a while, because I'm on holiday next week.

Chapter 8 - Victoire

It's _freezing._ And not just your average kind of freezing, either. It's a the-temperature's-below-zero-and-my-hair-and-clothes-are-soaked-through kid of freezing. It's rained heavily since about twenty minutes after the train started moving. So the second we all stepped out onto the platform we were soaked. And then – _then_ – rather than being taken up to the castle in nice, dry, probably warm, carriages (pulled by thestrals, which are invisible – to me, anyway – which is _awesome_) we, the lowly first years, have to go there by boat. Yes, tiny little boats, travelling over an open lake. In the pouring rain.

Pouring isn't a good enough word. It doesn't quite describe just how much it is actually raining out there. It was actually painful - you know, like sharp little spikes hitting you, over and over and over.

So now, I'm soaked through, freezing cold – my teeth are chattering, and I can't even nearly stop them – and stood in the great hall, being watched by all the older students. Who are all drier and warmer than me.

Teddy waved at me when I walked in, and I managed to raise my numb hand back. Waving it was beyond me, however. The energy that would take has been frozen out of me.

I bet this is the coldest day we've seen in years. Probably in ever. And we're all stood around here in cold clothes.

You know, if Grandma was here, she'd be rushing about, drying clothes and handing out hot drinks. And food. Wow, I'm hungry.

I want to go home. I've wanted to go to Hogwarts for years, and I know it's supposed to be great here, but right now I'm cold, hungry, and miserable. I want to go home. Or to the Burrow. I want a nice, warm bed. I want my mum, or my dad. I want Monique and Louis.

My brother's only seven, what if he forgets me? Or if Domonique doesn't ever forgive me for leaving her behind? And all my cousins, most of them are only little. I'll be like a stranger to them, I won't fit into my own family, and –

And I'll see them at Christmas. And in a couple years, Monique will be here, too, and then a few years after that so will Louis. And the cousins. I need to stop worrying...

Or maybe I should just change what I'm worrying about – I'll be sorted in a few minutes. And I'm the oldest of the whole extended family – well, except for Teddy, who is my best friend but I'm never sure whether or not to count him as actually family – so my sorting's important, isn't it? It's like, the first. Shouldn't I be feeling nerves, pressure, raw unadulterated fear, rather than just misery and homesickness?

We're getting closer to me. Closer and closer. We've been here for ages already - my year group's quite big. After the war, I guess everyone was so happy to be alive and safe that they couldn't wait to reproduce. Still, the crowd has thinned somewhat, and we're getting closer to the Ws. And I should be terrified by now – there's a boy beside me who's actually visibly shaking – but I can't seem to work it up. There's the uncomfortable, mild nerves, of course.

But still, all I want is to go _home._ Back to the little house, the room me and Monique share with the view of the sea. I love that view. The dramatic beauty of the cliffs.

I want my cliffs.

I catch Teddy's eye again, and he smiles. It's that encouraging everything'll-be-alright smile. Obviously he thinks I'm nervous.

I should be nervous. What's wrong with me? I look around, catch a few furtive glances my way. Ah, yes. The Weasley fame. Should I make a little speech? Yes, children, I am the firstborn of the legendary Bill Weasley, who bears battle scars on his face, whose brother's name is etched upon the plaque outside this very hall...

Teddy would. He'd turn it into a joke, but the kind that puts people in their places. He'd make them feel ashamed for staring.

But I'm not Teddy, and so I look away. When our James and everyone get here, they'll get more stares and stuff. People are really curious. Uncle Harry and Aunt Ginny can't even take them to Diagon Alley without the pictures appearing in the paper or a magazine or something. I know – I've been with them. I ended up in _Witch Weekly _last year. It was pretty cool, actually. They had a whole bunch of pictures, and they wrote my name and age and everything. My parents and everyone were a little annoyed, but it was awesome. Like being famous. And, when I was born, the _Prophet_ ran an article. Not as big as when James, Al or Lily were born, or even when Rose and Hugo were. But an article all the same. Us Weasley's are a famous lot.

Uncle Harry doesn't like being famous. I don't really get that – I mean, he killed the most evil wizard ever. The wizard responsible for, like, thousands of deaths – including my very own Uncle – and all kinds of bad things. Uncle Harry ended that.

But he makes out like it's not a big deal. Weird.

I tune back into the sorting, find us even closer to my surname. The crowd I'm in is shrinking rapidly.

The trembling boy beside me walks forward, taking quick, jerky steps. Bless him, he's terrified. I wonder if he's muggle-born.

Ooh. Was that offensive? I'm not really sure about these things – obviously I don't care if he is or not. But I know a lot of the deaths in the war were due to muggle/muggle-born hate, and I don't want to be offensive.

The boy goes into Ravenclaw, if you were wondering.

Couple more names. A Slytherin, and a Gryffindor. A Hufflepuff that takes forever to sort. Another Ravenclaw. Two Slytherins. A Hufflepuff, and Gryffindor, and a Ravenclaw. A Hufflepuff sorted in less than a second.

And –

"Weasley, Victoire."

Flitwick pronounced my first name right. I've met him a bunch of times, which is probably why. Hopefully it won't be pronounced wrong too much. Not that I blame people for it – it doesn't look like it sounds, does it? But their pronunciations range from "Victor" to "Veese-tory".

I step up to the stool, sit, and blink as the hat is dropped over my head.

A moment of silence. And then a little voice in my head. If Teddy hadn't told me this would happen, I'd probably be worried.

_Ah...not feeling your best today, then, Miss Weasley?_

"Um, no." I reply uncertainly. "Er...how are you?"

Well, it seemed like the right response. The hat chuckled a little.

_Fine, thank you. But we're really here to discuss you. Now, let's see...You're not the first to sit here and wish for home, Miss Weasley. _

"I'm probably just tired." I replied self-consciously. "I...I've wanted to come here for years. "

_Yes, I see that. But it's never easy to leave your family, is it?_

"I...I guess not."

_You're scared, aren't you, Miss Weasley? Of being here, without your family to support you? Being away from them for the first time?_

"I...yes. I'm terrified."

Well, no point lying to it, is there? The thing can see into my head.

_Yes. Well, that's understandable. Most love Hogwarts, but many struggle to stay. Remember that._

"I...Sure. I will."

_Are you planning to leave, Miss Weasley? To run home, to your parents and siblings? To run away from the fear and uncertainty, to safety and security?_

"No." The answer came before I even thought about it.

_You'll stay? Even though you're scared, even though you feel alone?_

"Yes. I have to try, don't I?"

I'll admit, a part of my wants the hat to say no, actually. No need to try, might as well just run on home.

_Yes._ It says instead. _I know just where to put you, Miss Weasley._

"You do?"

_Yes. You'll manage it. You'll struggle – they'll be times you want to go home, times you're tempted. But you'll face up to your fears, and you'll manage it. I'm certain of that. Oh, and remember. You're not alone here._

"Thanks..."

It doesn't say another word to me – but yells _GRYFFINDOR_ to the whole hall.

I stand up slowly, take off the hat and hand it back. Then I smile at Teddy as he shifts up to make room for me on the bench beside him. People watch me, even as the next person steps forward to be sorted.

"Hi." I whisper, as I sit beside Ted.

"Hey. You look...happy." He says, titling his head.

"I just got some pretty good advice." I shrug. He looks over at the hat, and nods, as though he understands. One day, I decide, we'll discuss this, tell each other what the hat said to us.

For now, though, I just sit back and watch the rest of the sorting.


	9. Fred

Well, sorry it took me so long. I have a number of excuses - starting college again, the writer's block that seems to like hanging out with me, writing Ten Little Things - all of which are true but don't make up for it. So, let me know what you think of this.

Chapter 9 - Fred

It's really weird, standing here. And just a little bit creepy, for a couple of reasons. Not because it's a boarding school – well, a little because it's a boarding school; when my parents first explained about Hogwarts a few years, I actually got upset (not matter what Roxy says, I did _not_ cry) because I thought it meant they didn't want me around anymore, and were sending me away.

I guess the reason I felt so weird on the train was a left over abandonment fear or something. It's not like I'm going to miss them – I'll be home for Christmas anyway, and all Roxy ever does is drive me crazy. Can't wait to get away from her.

It's just a little weird, that's all.

OK, back to the main reasons this place is a little creepy. Well, on the way in, I, and most of the other first years, stopped to look at the memorial plaque. Not that I haven't seen it before – I've been coming to the memorial ceremony every year of my life. But I wondered if it would be different, looking at it as an actual Hogwarts student – although, do I count as an actual Hogwarts student before I get sorted? Anyway, it didn't seem any different, but as always I saw my own name there.

I try not to look at it, I really do, but every time I glance at it, it's like a magnetic pull. _Fred Weasley_. I can't begin to explain how weird it is to see my own name up there, on a list of the dead.

Not that it refers to me, of course. No, the plaque is immortalising my dead uncle, my father's twin, and my namesake.

Now don't get me wrong, it's great and all that my parents named me after someone important. And I guess it's a nice gesture. But it's not only a little weird, it's quite often plain annoying.

I could count on one hand how many times my dad's called me by my name. Well, maybe that's a little harsh, but it's not too far from the truth. I'm usually "son" or any number of random endearments. And my Grandma's worse. I don't think she's ever once called me Fred. I understand why, of course, but still...

And there's the way they all _remember_. If I do something, and he did it first, they all get this look. And I know that they're remembering him doing it, and it just sucks.

It's like living in a shadow.

The second reason this place is creepy is because of this very hall. This, right here, is where they put the bodies on that last battle. Laid them all out here. So I'm stood, right now, pretending to watch the sorting, where a body once lay. Maybe even – and wouldn't that be poetic – where dead Uncle Fred himself was?

See? Creepy. You'd think they'd have knocked the room down, moved it. Something.

Because I'm sort of freaking myself out, I look back towards the rest of the students, playing spot-the-relative. There's not many of us here, yet, I guess. Victoire, Dominique, and Molly. And Louis, but as he's standing beside me waiting to be sorted, I guess he doesn't count. Or does he? I'm still not sure if we count as students pre-sorting. Oh, and Teddy. Let's not forget him – as if I could miss the bright blue hair. He's in his last year now – which really bothers James, because he's starting next year meaning they won't be at Hogwarts together. I think Teddy's the big brother he's never had.

Hell, Teddy's the big brother we've all never had.

Lou catches my eye, offers a nervous smile. I should be more nervous than him – I'm first.

Still, we're not near the Ws yet, so I don't have to worry. It's kinda weird, James not being here. At home, when the whole family yet together, me, James and Lou hang out. There's only a year's difference, after all. (Actually, Lou is a few months older than me, and I'm only a few months older than James. But enough to put us in separate years.) Still, he'll be here next year.

It's a shame we aren't all here together, though. Hogwarts wouldn't know what had hit them.

My mind wonders for a while, only to be abruptly brought back to reality when Lou elbows me sharply in the ribs. Just as I was putting on my best glare, I heard my name being read out.

Oh. Well, I guess I needed the elbow after all. Lou grins; I grin back, and start walking forward, secretly hoping they only read my name out once. I could laugh it off, of course – George Wesley's son, after all - but it would be embarrassing if I'd just stood there gormless while my name was being called.

"Hiya." I greeted Flitwick brightly, as I sat on the stool and accepted the hat. Well, it's only polite, isn't it? I've met him a bunch of times, at memorials and stuff. And once, a couple of year back, Uncle Harry brought me and James and Louis into school with him, when he was giving a talk to a seventh-year Defence class. Originally, it was just going to be James, but I wanted to come, then Louis.

I won't go into details, but Uncle Harry vowed never to bring us again. It's not too bad though, he was laughing when he told my dad what we'd done. Though mum wasn't impressed. Not during my sight or hearing, though.

For a moment, everything was silent. Well, actually, there were some murmurs and stuff in the hall. But the hat didn't speak, and I wondered if Teddy and everyone had been lying about it.

_No, your cousins were truthful._

I jumped at the little voice, which is rather humiliating, but recovered quickly.

"Yeah. Hi."

_So. Another Weasley._

"Yup. More to come, too. You'll see our Lou in a minute. Then more cousins for the next few years."

_I'll look forward to it. Now, where will I put you?_

"I don't know. Where?"

_I once asked your father that question. He informed me that any house would do, as long as it was Gryffindor._

"That doesn't even make sense." I replied. Even a hat is comparing me to my dad. I just can't get away from it.

_It was fairly amusing, I imagine, to him. As it happened, however, Gryffindor was the correct choice for him. And for his twin._

"Yeah I...I know about the war and everything."

_Proud, I imagine._

"Uh, yeah. It just gets a little...old sometimes. You know, hearing about it, having people ask me about it – I wasn't even there but they expect me to know stuff. And...and the pity. It's just weird, having people feel sorry for me because the uncle I never met died years before I was born."

I shut up quickly then, realising how bad that must have sounded.

_You don't have to worry about what you say to me. I can see inside your head; I see it all._

"That's...creepy."

_Mmm. I've heard that before._

"I bet." Now I know that I should say something funny here. Because I'm George Weasley's son, and everyone expects me to be just as funny. Because me and Lou and James cause trouble everywhere (in my mum's words) and so people are expecting it.

"So," I manage after an awkward silence. "Where you putting me?

_I'm still deciding that one, Fred._

Huh. Look at that. Grandma can't call me by my name, but this hat can.

_It bothers you, greatly. The shadow you see yourself in. The ghost in your life._

"He's not a ghost." I replied.

_No, not in the literal sense of the word. But in the minds and the hearts of your family. And he haunts you, doesn't he, Fred?_

"I...I guess. Sort of. Everyone at home...sometimes it feels as if they're comparing me to him. I don't think they even realise it. Even dad. I figure that here, everyone'll know the stories and stuff. And a lot of them have been in the store, met my dad, you know? Everyone's going to think I'll be like him..."

_You are alike, though. In personality._

"I know. But he's funnier than me. It's a lot to live up to, really. I'd rather have come here with a clean slate."

_I understand that. It seems unfair. Tell me, Fred, do you think it would be easier for you if you were not in Gryffindor? Easier to establish yourself as your own person?_

I had to think about that. Maybe it would. Maybe people would see me as a different person – not just another Weasley. I don't know.

"I can't make the decision, and I'm not supposed to, am I?" I asked. "It's down to you – you put me where you think I belong."

It laughed a little. _You're correct; it is my decision to make. Goodbye, Fred. I think you'll enjoy your time here – and try not to miss your sister too much; you'll see her in a few months._

"Roxy? I won't miss _Roxy -_"

_You already do. GRYFFINDOR._

Miss Roxy. As if.

I stood, handed the hat back, and went to sit beside Teddy.

"Have a nice talk with the hat?" He murmured.

"Uh...yeah. I guess. Does it normally...?"

"I don't know. But a little tip, Fred. In my experience, that hat knows what it's talking about." Teddy offered a smirk, then turned to watch Lou walking over to the hat.

Huh. Well, it was definitely wrong about one thing. There is no way I'm going to miss my sister.


	10. Louis

Chapter 10 – Louis

I hope to Merlin everyone knows I'm a boy. I know it's a weird think to be thinking, while waiting to be sorted into my Hogwarts house, but if you'd been called beautiful as often as I have, you'd understand.

I have the Weasley hair. Which is something I'm eternally grateful for, because with my mum and Vee's pale gold hair, I'd have to give up on anyone knowing my gender. So there's the bright Weasley red, which I keep short, in the hopes of avoiding confusion. It's pathetically neat, no matter what I do, though; always tidily flat and straight, even in gale-force winds. I'd kill for James and Al's hair, I really would.

My freckles are hardly visible, too, except for the summer, when the sun brings them out a little. But mostly, they're an impossibly pale gold colour. If I wasn't so pale myself, they'd be completely invisible. But my skin's as white as paper. Then there's the fact that I'm, in my Grandma Molly's words, "just skin and bone." At least I'm a decent height – though I guess if I just stopped growing, I'd soon be weirdly short. But I've got an inch or two on Fred right now.

I look like my mum. And my sisters. You can really tell we're related. It's such a feminine face. And a few times – enough to make me insecure – I've been mistaken for a girl. Once, this old woman asked my dad why he cut his daughter's hair so short.

It was not funny. At all. Which is why I haven't told anyone, and won't let dad tell anyone, either. Because they would laugh and it isn't funny.

So yes, my annoyingly neat hair is short, I'm standing straight, at my full height and hoping that everyone knows I'm a boy. Which is probably the stupidest thing anyone has ever worried about.

At least my name's a boy's name. Isn't it? It's not like unisex or anything, I'm sure it's not. I'm pretty sure. God I hope not. Though it's mostly shortened to Lou, and that could be short for a girl's name, couldn't it?

Maybe I should get a badge of some kind. Or one of those symbols you see on public toilets. I could have a massive one stuck to my back and chest.

I'm so nervous. Not just about possible gender-confusion, but this whole situation. Being away from home – I'll never admit it, but having my sisters here is a big comfort – having to learn magic – what if I'm not any good? We spend a few weeks every summer in France, with my mum's family, who pretty much constantly speak French, yet I struggle with the language. How I supposed to learn all this magic stuff?

Vee says she was really homesick when she first got here. That she nearly quit it and came home loads of times. I remember the first Christmas she came home – as soon as she saw us in the station, she came flying over, burst into tears, and hugged mum and dad for about ten minutes. Then she hugged Monique and me. Which, at seven, wasn't something I was impressed with.

Why do girls hug all the time? What is that about?

I kinda wish I had a brother. I mean, Fred and James are cool and all, but a real brother...Albus'll practically do whatever James tells him to. And even a little sister would be better than nothing, I guess, though I'm not sure we could handle another girl in the house. Me and dad have a day every few weeks where we leave the house and go have a guy day. It's really cool – sometimes we go watch a Quidditch match, just the two of us, or we go to the Leaky Cauldron or he'll even take me into work. Something. Father-son bonding, mum calls it, but it's not, it's just guy stuff.

Or maybe it is a "bonding" thing. I don't know. Doesn't matter.

I glanced over at the Gryffindor table; Monique smiles at me. Doesn't help the nerves. I wonder vaguely if I'll be the first non-Gryffindor Weasley. I really don't want to be, though mum kept telling me it didn't matter where I end up. But it would. Maybe not to her, maybe even not to dad. But it'd matter to my sisters, it'd matter to James, and it'd matter to Fred, even though we'd all pretend it didn't.

I didn't really want to come to Hogwarts. This whole sorting thing seems so stupid, so...I can't explain it. It's like a pressure, the second you get here. Like taking a test. Everyone stood here waiting is terrified of what this hat is going to do.

It doesn't seem fair to put us through that so quickly. Especially not when I don't feel like I have _any_ of the qualities described in the hat's song.

I've never seen a singing hat before. It's an experience.

Fred glanced round at me then, looking slightly bored. I offered a smile, which I know came out as nervous. He grinned at me, then went back to surveying the hall.

I looked back at the Gryffindor table. There's an empty seat next to Teddy, and opposite him, next to our Victoire. I wonder if they're for me and Fred? That's scarily optimistic.

Really, I should have gone to mum's old school. Sure, it's in another country, and sure, I can only just speak the language, but mum always said her school was better than Hogwarts.

And there are no houses there, which would take the pressure off.

But I'd miss my sisters. I'll admit it, though only to myself. It's not something I'm going to share with Fred. But I know I'd miss them. It's been weird being at home without them both the last few years. The house isn't exactly big, but it feels massive and empty when there not here.

Course, when the holidays roll round, we're back to fighting over the bathroom, the best seat in the living room, and all the usual things. But I love them and stuff.

Again, nothing I'd say to Fred. Or even James, though I think he'd be more forgiving. He's more affectionate towards Lily, even if he does generally just hit Al and boss him around. It's there, you know, a closeness that none of them try to hide.

Now Fred, on the other hand, would tell you he can't stand his sister, and acts like it too. But it's a there with them, too, sometimes. That closeness, no matter how much they both try to hide it.

Still, you don't walk into a room and just say, "Oh, by the way, I love my sisters." Not even to them.

Oh, wow, we're nearly at the Ws now. I'm past nervous now; there's a vague terror there, but it's all kinda numbed, you know?

I hate this, I really do. I wish it didn't take so long. OK, in fairness, some of these sortings are really fast. But others are really long, so it's taking forever. Plus there's quite a few of us.

Apparently it's part of the whole "Yes-we're-alive" thing after the war. You'd think they'd have got over it by my birth year, but no.

James wants a big family. He said so a while back. He wants loads of kids, he told Aunt Ginny. Five or six, or more.

She told him she hopes he finds a girl willing to give birth to that many kids, and he replied that he was going to adopt them all from Phoenix House, the wizarding orphanage Uncle Harry set up in the old headquarters for the Order of the Phoenix. It's a little weird, I guess, for a ten year old to be talking about having kids.

But James is weird.

Oh...I think maybe...Fred's still away with the fairies, but I think he might be next. Elbow to the ribs, then...He hates it when I do that – sharp elbows can be really useful.

His glare turns into a grin as his name's read out, and he walks over to the hat, looking completely relaxed. I, however, am suddenly a nervous wreck – I'm next. And though Fred brightly greets Flitwick, settles on the stool and lets the hat drop over his face, my legs feel suddenly shaky, my mouth is dry, and I think I might just throw up. Which isn't the best plan.

I don't know if I want Fred to hurry up so I can get this over with, or if I never want to have to sit on that stool and wear that hat. Not that I have much say in it, of course. And knowing Fred, he'll have a nice little conversation with the hat. I sort of wish I had his confidence, you know?

And then, suddenly, the hat yells "Gryffindor" and everyone's clapping. Fred looks pretty pleased with himself, but I can't form any clear thought.

Gryffindor. That's good. Well done Fred. Oh, hell, I'm next.

"Weasley, Louis." Flitwick squeaks (that may be mean, but it's how it sounds, honest) and I can feel all the blood rush to my face.

Great. I'm going to be a big glowing red...uh...something. Still, my legs don't give way as I make the short trip forward. Fred made us stand near the front – he likes to be at the front of a room, or a crowd. Personally, I prefer to be near the back, or lost in the middle. To just blend in. But I'm glad there's not too far to walk.

The last thing I see before I'm looking at the inside of a hat, in about a thousand faces look,ing intently at me.

I hope they're looking because I'm a Weasley, not because they're trying to figure out my gender.

_Often confusion, is there?_

I jumped. Noticeably, I think. Great – Fred won't let that one go, not for a while.

"Uh...Yeah. Sometimes..." Well, why don't I just tell everyone, huh? It's not like it's embarrassing or anything...

_You'll grow out of it, I'm sure. Don't let it bother you, Mr Weasley._

"Uh, OK. You, ah, can call me Lou, if you want."

_Very well. You seem very nervous, Lou. _

"Yeah, I guess I am."

_Understandably, of course. I remember sorting your father. He was very nervous himself. Started telling me about all his siblings at home, and how he had to set an example to them. Quite a pressure, I'm sure._

"I've never seen him nervous. Ever." It's hard to imagine him as a kid, never mind a nervous one.

_Most are, when they sit here. But you'll soon settle, Lou. Everyone does._

I don't really know what to say to that, so I don't speak.

_You have family here, which I'm sure will make it easier. You're very family orientated, I see. There's a great amount of love and affection for them all – even with the envy._

"Envy? I don't – I don't envy any of them -"

_You do. You envy each of them, for some trait or other. That's normal, Lou, even healthy. Don't worry about that much._

"I just...I know I could be better, you know? I mean, I could be as confident as Fred, but I'm _not_. Or as funny as James. Or as smart as -"

_You have your own strengths and virtues, Lou. You'd see that, if you stopped dwelling on your flaws, and others qualities._

It sort of sounds a little harsh, the words, but there's something like understanding in its voice.

"Maybe."

_Trust me. I see them all._

"Care to tell me a few of them?"

_Ah, I would, Lou, but my job is simply to see and sort. You have to do that sort of thing on your own._

"Yeah, I was afraid of that. So, you've seen – are you going to sort?"

_Of course. Are you ready now, or do you need a few more moments?_

"Uh...I guess I'm ready."

_Very well. Oh, and Lou? Try to relax a little. It'll help._

"Uh..."

_GRYFFINDOR!_

I lifted the hat, blinking a little in the suddenly light, then stood and handed it back. Vee and Monique are beaming at me, Fred and Teddy smirking. Grinning back, I walk over, completely at ease, and sit next to Vee.

"Well done." She whispers, briefly clutching my hand.


	11. Lucy

Really not my best work - I'm really starting to dislike Lucy. Her _Ten Little Things_ chapter was difficult too. But I felt I had to put something up, since it's been a while, so I struggled through the writer's block. I must get points for effort, if not for the actual chapter, right?

Chapter 11 – Lucy

Dad was really upset about me coming here, you know. Our Moll, she's been here years now, so you'd have thought he'd have sort of got used to it, accepted the idea of me coming away to Hogwarts, too.

But no. Dad got all upset. Mum said that it's because I'm the youngest, and the oldest and youngest are the hardest to let go. I don't know how she can make a comparison like that, to be honest, because there's only me and Molly – therefore, all mum _has_ is an oldest and a youngest. How would she know how difficult it is to let a middle child go?

I guess she talked to Aunt Fleur or Auntie Ginny. Or maybe Uncle Bill or Uncle Harry, but that seems less likely somehow. But that's not really important.

What is important is now I feel stupidly guilty for being here. I've always been desperate to come to Hogwarts, since, like, our Vee came here. Well, maybe that's an exaggeration, really, because I was only about four when she first came here. But still, I've always wanted to, and now I feel like I've abandoned my parents or something. Which is stupid – if anything, I should be feeling abandoned; I've been sent away to boarding school.

Mum looked pretty upset, too, but she tends to hide stuff like that, pretend she's OK. It annoys me sometimes – it would be so much easier if everyone just _said_ things, instead of pretending and either expecting you to just know, or just hoping no one will ever know.

Moll, she just assumes you know when she's upset, and why. Which, of course, I never do, and don't understand why she expects me to. Is it any wonder we argue all the time? Plus, there's about four years between us, so I guess that makes us argue, too. It amazes everyone, because normally she's really even-tempered, and rarely shouts and stuff. Then either she'll make me mad and _I_ start shouting, or I'll make her mad and _she'll_ start shouting. Either way, we end up screaming at each other, hitting each other, ect, and everyone gets right shocked.

Though they often assume it's my fault. I shout all the time, you see, so even if Molly's pulling half my hair out, it's my fault. Which is really unfair. And she's the oldest, so she should have grown out of hitting me and things now, but no one ever comments on that. Well, except our parents.

I'm not all that nervous, to be honest. Roxy is, but as far as I'm concerned, it's not that important where I end up. Roxy thinks she has to be in Gryffindor, because her parents and brother and everyone else is there. I don't really get that, because Moll's in Gryffindor (that was a shock, really, I was betting in Ravenclaw) and so was my dad, and everything, but I really don't mind where I end up. It's hardly important, is it?

Well, it's obviously important to Roxy, because she looks terrified. It's weird, because she rarely ever is. And trust me, I can tell. We've been best friends since we were babies.

Sometimes, I think me and her are more like sisters than me and Molly are. Which makes me feel sort of guilty, and sort of sad. And afraid.

When the war started, all those years ago, my dad walked out on his family. Just abandoned them. Stayed away for years, while everything was getting worse and people were dying, and Granddad and Uncle Bill and Uncle Ron all ended up really hurt. He just left them. He's got his excuses, of course, but sometimes I think he just didn't love them enough to stick around, to make sure they were OK.

And that scares me, because I don't know if I love Molly, or my parents, enough to stay with them when things get difficult.

We're moving forward quickly. Vee said her year was really full, and Uncle Bill said it's 'cause after the war, a lot of people didn't want to wait to start their own family and stuff. Including him and Aunt Fleur I guess, but I didn't say it. But I figure by our year, people had relaxed a little, and stopped rushing into kids. We're not so big a group.

Which is good, really, because it doesn't looked like the castle could hold many more.

Teddy always says that our family make up a big part of the Hogwarts population, but we definitely don't. There's not that many of us, really, and Victoire's left, now, and Hugo and Lily don't start till next year, so we don't take up that much room in the castle.

Roxy said he was only joking. I guess she was right. You never can tell with Teddy.

They are all at the Gryffindor table, though. It's weird that they're all in there – and part of the pressure that's getting to Roxy – but the odds are pretty good, really, when you think about it. My dad's parents and uncles were in there, as well as all his brothers and his sister. Roxy's mum was in there, Uncle Harry was in there and Auntie Hermione was in there.

So it all comes down to genetics, really.

Everyone shuffles forward a little as the next person goes and sits down. I don't really get why; it's not as though we're queuing or anything, is it? We're waiting for our names to be called out, so shuffling won't make it happen any sooner or anything. But, I don't want to get crushed by the people behind me, so I do a little shuffle forward, too.

I've only been here about half-an-hour, and I'm already conforming. This place is gonna suck the life out of me.

Roxy reaches out suddenly, grips my hand tightly. For a second I'm not sure why; then it clicks.

The person who's just been called out, their surname began with a "T". Which is pretty close to "W" in the alphabet. Which has obviously scared Rox. Stupidly, she moved back a step – again, as if we were queuing. I smirked at her, and she sheepishly returns it.

It's lucky we're not queuing, really. No one would want to be at the front. Well, I wouldn't mind.

Still, there's a little flutter in my stomach as my name's called out.

The last thing I see before the hat covers my eyes is James smirking and waving.

_Ah. Another Weasley._

I wonder if it says that to them all.

"Yep. My cousin's waiting, too. She's next. Go easy on her, though, OK, because she's sort of really nervous."

_I won't hurt her. Now, Lucy, where shall we put you?_

"It's not that important to me. I think I'll fit anywhere, to be honest. Well, except Hufflepuff."

_Why not Hufflepuff?_

"Their quality's loyalty, isn't it? I don't have any of that."

_What makes you think that?_

"Genetics. My dad had no loyalty. I'm a lot like him, in some ways. And I look like him."

_That doesn't necessarily mean you share his qualities. But why say he has no loyalty?_

"He ran out on his family when the war started. I think _that_ shows a clear lack of loyalty."

_It shows things, Lucy, but perhaps not a measure of loyalty. But maybe you should talk to him about it._

"Nah. We've talked about it already, no point bringing it up again."

_And you feel that this lack of loyalty – both his and yours – stems from a lack of love?_

"I...You're doing the mind-reading thing, aren't you? Uh, Fred told Roxy..."

_In a sense, yes._

"So I guess you see that I, ah, don't love them...as much as I should..." Damn, I can feel the blood creeping up into my face. Shame is not fun.

_What I see, Lucy, is you doubting your love for your family and your loyalty. In truth, I see a great deal of love, and loyalty. And – though I'm not sure I should tell you – your father had a great deal of love for his family at your age, too. I find it hard to believe that love and protectiveness would have faded._

I guess I'm supposed to think about that, but this conversation is just uncomfortable for me. I need it to end, soon. "I – I guess...I'm still not a Hufflepuff, though, am I?"

It laughed a little, which is kind of weird.

_I think you would fit quite neatly into Hufflepuff, Lucy._

"What? Really? No way..." I can't help grinning like an idiot, honestly. I'm trying not to.

_Yes. But I think, in the long run, you'd be happier with your sister and cousins, wouldn't you?_

"In Gryffindor? Well, I guess. Never really thought of myself as brave, though..."

_No, most eleven years old don't. And, Lucy, most eleven year olds aren't. I see the potential, though. _

"Oh. That makes sense, then. Um, could you do me a favour, though? Could you maybe put our Roxy in Gryffindor, too? It's where she really wants to be, and it'd be better if we were together..."

_I can't make any promises, Lucy. It depends entirely on your cousin. But if you ever doubt your love or loyalty again, remember that request._

"What? I don't under-"

"GRYFFINDOR!" I actually heard that echo round the hall, and then the hat was pulled off my head.

Well, that was rude. I _was_ speaking. Still, I don't think they'll give me it back, so I smile at Roxy – who looks even more nervous now she knows it's her turn – and head over to my table.

I sit next to Molly, who gives me a surprised look. I'm not amazed, I refused to sit with her on the train. But I offer a smile, then turn away from her bemused expression to watch Roxy.


	12. Lorcan

Well it would probably have made more sense to do Roxanne next, but I just kept thinking about Lorcan. Well, I guess it's less predictable this way. Thanks to those who reviewed; they mean a lot to me, especially in my current state.

Lorcan and Lysander are Luna's sons for anyone who doesn't know, and I decided to follow the trend and make them twins, though I don't know if that's cannon. _Lydia Longbottom_ is my own creation though, and Neville's youngest daughter.

12 – Lorcan

It's sort of anti-climatic. Actually standing here, in this hall, dripping water onto the floor, isn't as amazing as I'd built it up to be. Don't get me wrong, the hall itself is pretty impressive – and the ceiling, with the dark clouds and the flashes of brilliant lightening is amazing – but after all the years of hearing about everyone else coming here, it just seems a bit of a letdown, that's all.

I'm not sure what I expected. Fireworks and drum rolls and singing dragons. Actually, that was sort of how I imagined it when I was younger. A lot younger. But now, I'm just stood here, freezing and wet – it rained constantly from about five o clock this morning, so we got soaked getting from the house to the car, from the car to the station, and from the train to the castle itself. So I'm creating a nice big puddle on the floor, my socks feel like they're _made_ of water, I'm colder than I've ever been in my life, and so tired that the wet, solid floor is looking like a pretty good place to nap.

I hardly got any sleep last night. Not out of nerves – not really, anyway – but just because my insomnia's come back. It comes out to play every few weeks, so I get to lay wide awake most of the night, then spend all day tired. I slept a little on the train, but Lysander kept wanting to talk. Why he couldn't have just talked with Lydia and left me to sleep, I'll never know.

So. My big awesome first day at Hogwarts doesn't feel that big or that awesome at all. But still; I'll be able to go to bed soon.

Zander's watching the sorting intently, as though fascinated by the whole process. Like it's a surprise? I don't know how many times we've heard about this from The Family.

Not that The Family are actually mine and Zander's – or even Lydia's. Not technically, not biologically. But you wouldn't know that to look at us all. Somehow my mum, and Neville, got adopted into the Weasley family. We're like honorary cousins, I guess, and we even call Molly "Grandma" like all the others. I'm not sure when that started – it's just always been that way. They're not too fussed who they let into the big family – I guess they hardly notice a couple extras – and we've never felt like we don't belong there. It's really cool, actually, 'cause the only biological family we've got is our mum's dad. That's it – dad was an only child, and his parents died forever ago.

And sometimes, I really wonder how the Weasley can be so open and accepting. They practically just have complete strangers to dinner, with no questions asked. After all they've been through, you'd think they'd be bitter and cynical.

But they're not, and I think that shows a lot of strength.

If you got by the – technically wrong – assumption that we're part of the Weasley family, we're the last ones to be sorted. Lily and Hugo got here last year – it really sucks that they're in the year above us, though Lily keeps telling us we'll all hang out outside lessons. They're all their at the Gryffindor table – another obstacle in our lifelong friendship, because I highly doubt I'll be there myself. Again, Hugo said that doesn't matter; look at Rose, Al and Scorpius Malfoy, he said, friends even though Scorpius is in Slytherin. I tried to protest a little more – "Scorpius is in their year, though" – but Lily hit my arm and told me to shut up. Gotta pick your battles.

But I can see them all, and it is a comfort. Well, I say them all; Teddy, Vee and Monique have all left now. But the rest of them are there, and it helps to know I'm not alone in this.

I know that sounds stupid when I've got my brother and one of my best friends beside me, but there's something about having older people – family – here.

And once one of them – Hugo – notices me looking over, they all do, and I get smiles and waves from the lot of them. It makes me smile, and relax, despite the soaking state of my socks.

I wonder how mum will handle us being gone. She was really worried about us leaving, and I think she considered keeping us at home. I know for a fact that James promised to look out for us. I guess he's sort of used to doing that, what with Al and Lily and Rose and Hugo. Still, it's cool to have a surrogate big brother – even Lysander's half an hour younger than I am.

The sorting's moving really slowly. Everyone else has this look of absolute dread, but I just want to sit down. And be warm and dry and asleep, but for now sitting down is good enough.

Still, we're pretty early on in the alphabet, so I guess I'm standing a little while longer.

I thought I'd feel all grown up standing here. I always thought everyone else was all grown up when they came here – except Lily and Hugo, just because they've never seemed any older than us – they all seemed taller and almost like adults. But I don't feel any different – I'm still a short, scrawny kid with funny coloured hair.

It just adds to the whole let-down feeling, to be honest.

Lydia catches my eye, offers me a smile of her own, tinted with nerves. It's strange to see, actually, because Lydia's generally a very laid back sort of person, and usually happy. (The optimism kind of annoys me sometimes, but I love her anyway.)

"Not long now." She whispers, just loud enough for me to hear. I nod, because I can't whisper without everyone within six feet hearing me, and I figure people won't appreciate me ruining the atmosphere.

I guess she assumed I was nervous, too, because she grips my hand.

Now, let me take a moment to point out that there is nothing – that is absolutely _nothing_ – between Lydie and me. People sometimes assume there is (with me and everyone else) because she always hugs or holds hands or random stuff like that, but that's not just me, it's pretty much everyone. I guess it goes with her relaxed nature or something. But me and her are like brother and sister; I've known her my whole life.

Or her whole life, I guess, because she's like six months younger than me.

She released my hand then, though, and it took me a second to realise it's because we've reached the Ls.

I'd've offered her a good luck smile, but she wasn't looking at me. Instead she walked straight ahead, and let the hat fall over her eyes.

A couple of minutes later, she went to go sit at the Ravenclaw table. She looks both surprised and pleased; though her brother and sister are both at the Gryffindor table.

Just me and Zander now, then. Once when we were younger I convinced him there was a monster under his bed, that would come out and eat him. He was terrified, spent most of the night wide awake, and then burst into tears when something fell off of the shelf in our room. And I don't just mean shocked tears that last a few seconds, I mean proper crying, wailing and screaming and sobbing for about half an hour.

Mum wasn't very impressed, and strangely enough she decided we should stop sharing a bedroom. Couple weeks later, I was packed off to the attic.

See how I did that there – made it sound really horrible? Actually, the attic room is great; bigger than the bedroom we shared – which is now, of course, just Zander's – with a circle window and sloping ceiling. Of course, I made a big deal of it, kept going on about how I was being sent off to the attic because Zander's gullible. But I love the room, really.

And if Zander was terrified for a week, I got no enjoyment out of that whatsoever. Or the grounding _I_ ended up with. It was hardly my fault though; you'd think at eight he'd grow out of believing in monsters.

Or mum's stories, but let's not get into that one. It's not an easy topic.

Besides, the sorting's moving on pretty quick now; we're actually nearly there. Who's going to be first, me or Zand? It'll be me, won't it? My first name's alphabetically first. Great.

I guess that suits us. I was born first, and I'm the leader. And I'm the one who knows what's real and what isn't.

OK, maybe I still have a little resentment left over. We argued about it all again last week, you see. Because my stupid brother believes all the stuff mum tells us, our bedtime stories and everything. Weird creatures with weirder names. It was bad enough when I realised Lysander believed it all (I was eight, and I actually think that was the motivation behind the monster-under-the-bed incident) but to find out that mum actually believed in them all, too, and that she was even looking for some of them...well, let's just say in makes things awkward. And sure, she's found creatures that no one thought were real, and plants, and stuff, but...

Sometimes I feel sort of like an outsider, you know? When mum and Zander are talking about these stupid animals that I don't believe in. Even dad isn't on my side – he's kind of in the middle, a maybe-they-do, maybe-they-don't kind of opinion.

But it doesn't bother me that much. Honest. And me and Zander get on pretty well mostly.

Ooh, my name's almost up, I think. Wait for it...wait for it...wait for it...

"Lorcan Scamander."

There I am. Again, this feels anti-climactic, too – walking over, sitting down, and everything going black.

I wonder if Zander's still scared of the dark...

_Hmm. Interesting._

I didn't jump. I know that's a weird thing to be proud of, probably, but not jumping when someone talks _inside your head_ must be something impressive, right?

I assume so, anyway. I don't think it's ever happened to me before.

"Ah...my brother being scared of the dark?" It was a guess, OK? How am I supposed to know what it means? He means. She means...? Sounds like a guy...

_No, Lorcan. You are interesting._

"Oh. Uh...thanks?"

_You're very welcome. I remember your mother._

"Um..."

_I don't believe I met your father, though, did I?_

"No, he was, uh, taught at home."

_That explains it. I see a lot of your mother here, Lorcan. You're a lot alike._

"Not really. Zander – uh, my brother, Lysander – he's more like her. I'm not even a little bit like her, really."

_You're more alike her than you realise. Perhaps in a less obvious way than your brother?_

"Um...I guess..."

_You can trust me, Lorcan. Your qualities are a lot like your mother's. Loyal, brave, and smart._

"I...thank you." I don't know what else to say – the hat just complimented me and my mum, right?

_In your mother, the sorting was easier. Her brains were her strongest quality, so Ravenclaw was for her._

"And me...?"

_I can see, Lorcan, that you very much want Gryffindor. But can I ask you why?_

"I...well...The Family's all there. And Lily and Hugo...But I'm not a Gryffindor, am I?"

_No, Lorcan, I'm afraid you're not. And I'm sure you'll understand that yours are the wrong reasons to choose a house._

"Guess that's why you get to make the decision, huh?"

_That would be correct. I'm sorry if you're disappointed._

"I'm not. Not really. I guess. And Lydia isn't in Gryffindor, either. We'll be OK. I guess."

_A word of advice, Lorcan? When you know the answer to something don't doubt it._

"Ah...OK. Sure."

_Well, good luck._

"Than – wait – are we done?"

_Yes. RAVENCLAW!_

The hat was pulled of my head – hey, Ravenclaw, smart enough to take off hats – and I stood shakily. Ravenclaw. What do you know – I'm practically a genius!

I shoot Lysander grin, then send one over to the Gryffindor table. The Family's cheering me, so I guess it doesn't matter to them that I'm not walking over to them. I sit next to Lydia, who hugs me tightly. It's really only then that I realise that she must have been terrified over here, all alone.

This doesn't feel anti-climatic, or boring, or anything. Even though I'm still tired and wet and cold, this feels _right._


	13. Lysander

Sorry it's been so long. I've been weird lately. But I finally got this finished, and I'm sorry it's not better.

13 – Lysander

I don't like this. I really don't like this. Why do we have to stand here with everyone _looking_ at us?

OK, so I know Lily and everyone had it worse. She wrote and told us what people were saying and stuff, and I know that people looking at us, first years as a whole, isn't as bad as all the staring and everything she had, but I really don't like it.

As if I don't get enough funny looks anyway? That's what happens when someone shares your face, I guess. People look twice, ask questions, are amazed or amused. Not that Lorcan and I are actually identical – we just look very, very similar. It's easy to tell us apart when you know us well enough.

But mum liked to dress us in matching clothes – we're now old enough to refuse, but the uniform's the same here, so Hogwarts itself is taking that role over – which just emphasises the similarity. And the differences are, I guess, only slight.

It doesn't seem to bother Lorcan, the looking-alike thing. Or he's never mentioned it, anyway. Me, I'd rather be just Lysander, instead of Lorcan-and-Lysander, or The Twins, or The Scamander Twins, or anything else people come up with to group us together. Which is why our hair is different. Lorcan's fringe falls right into his eyes, and is long enough to be messy. Mine is shorter and I suppose it's neater. It's probably not all at that noticeable, but it makes me feel different, you know?

Stupid, I guess. I love my brother and everything. I just don't want to be him. We get along great sometimes, and other times...

He's close-minded, like so many other people. Not open or accepting to what's out there, just because there's no proof of it. Mum has this kind of affection for it, and tells me that it's not his fault, that we shouldn't blame him for it, or try to force him to change. That we should accept him as he is.

But he doesn't accept _me._ Or her, for that matter. The arguments you'd hear at our place are so ridiculous...

But I'm not getting into it now, because I'm about ten minutes away from being sorted and I'm nervous enough without getting annoyed at my brother. I'm lucky to have him here, with me. Beside me. That's one thing nothing will ever change – Lorcan will always be there when I need him, and I'll always be there for him.

We're brothers, and that's how it works. When we were really little, mum gave us these old coins she found on one of her trips. They were the same kind of coin, but both were faded on one side – different sides. So technically, I have one side of the coin, and Lorcan has the other. Mum said it's because that's what we are – two sides of a coin.

It sounds lame, I know. And it feels it, too, and it's not something I'll ever say out loud, not even to Lorcan.

But we both have these coins with us, pretty much all of the time, and sometimes I think we're meant to have them. What are the odds that mum'd find them like that, with different sides visible?

But I'm probably just being stupid. Dad always says I have a vivid imagination.

Ha. He should hear Lorcan's stories. For someone so close-minded, he's got the strongest imagination I know. He used to, when we were a bit younger, terrify me with some of his stuff. He says it's just because I'll believe anything, but it's not – he's really convincing. He's even had Lily and everyone believing a few things.

Speaking of Lily, she's just waved at me. Us, I mean. It was weird, last year, with her and Hugo gone. It had sort of always been me and Lorcan and Lydia and Lily and Hugo. Lydia's brother is the same age as Lily's oldest, and her sister is the same age as her other brother, and Hugo's sister, so they'd all be together, and we were "too young" for them. It was sort of annoying but I liked it, too. It's going to be the same here. Lorcan thinks I'm being naive for believing nothing will be different and we'll all stay friends, but I'm not, honestly. We've been friends, all of us, since birth. We're practically family, and we won't let each other go.

Lily kept telling me that, too, in all her letters last year. She believes it. I had to throw out all her letters, though, because Lorcan kept asking why I was keeping them. And he'd have figured it out, and...

Well, I don't want him to know I have a crush on one of our best friends, do I? Especially when I'm working so hard to get rid of it. It's stupid, and I don't think I'll ever have the guts to actually tell her. But still. Lorcan would never let it go. And I just don't want anyone to know about it.

Lydia's holding Lorcan's hand. Is that weird? Lorcan thinks it isn't, and it doesn't bother me when she holds my hand or anything, but I still think it's weird. I don't know anyone else who's that...affectionate with everyone.

Then she drops his hand, and shifts uncomfortably. A second later, her name is called out.

A few minutes after that, she's sat over at the Ravenclaw table. Looking both nervous and pleased. It's a good house, but I wonder if it bothers her that her brother and sister are in Gryffindor. And Lily and Hugo. And everyone.

Scary.

Me and Lorcan wait in silence. I wonder if he's still sulking with me. Or maybe he's just not talking because no one else is. I don't know. I hate the way we're always arguing. Well, OK, not always. It mostly just when we're alone, we get on each other's nerves, I guess. When we're in a group, we get along fine. But in the last year, with everyone except Lydia at Hogwarts, we were arguing more.

We'll be OK, though. We always are.

More sortings, which sort of bored me a little to be honest. It just takes so long – and S is so far down the alphabet. Eventually, though, Lorcan's name's called out.

It takes a long, long time. Or that's how it feels. I guess I was almost as worried about Lorcan's sorting as my own. Or I'm just curious to know which house he'll end up in.

Finally, the hat yells "Ravenclaw" and he gets up, grinning at me. I'm grinning back, and the Weasley's and Potter's are all cheering. He sits next to Lydia, she hugs him, and I'm so busy watching and grinning like an idiot that I miss my name being called out.

Oh yes. That's what I said. Some part of me was aware of it, I think, because when everything goes silent I realise that the words "Lysander Scamander" have just finished echoing around the hall. The blood rushes to my face as I move forward, trying to get there as quickly as possible without looking like I'm rushing. You know, a casual sort of _Yep, I heard it, I'm just taking my time_ sort of thing. I don't think it works, though, with my bright red face and the look of mortified horror I'm sure is on it. The last thing I see before the hat's dropped over my head is Lorcan burying his face in his hand.

God, I hope that's in shared embarrassment and sympathy, rather than to control his laughter.

I can't believe I did that. Hell, that has to be the most embarrassing thing I've ever done – that anyone's ever done –

_Worse has happened, I'm sure._

I only jump a little at the voice, and I don't think it's noticeable.

"Worse has never happened. That was the stupidest thing...the worst...how am I even supposed to look anyone in the eye, now? What a way to start..."

_At least you're not nervous, Lysander. Or do you prefer Zander?_

"I...either. I get called both all the time. How do you know...?"

_Your brother may have mentioned you. But back to you. I wouldn't worry so much about what just happened; Hogwarts will forget it soon enough._

"Uh-huh. Sure. At least nothing worse could happen. You could throw me in Slytherin, or say I'm unsortable and kick me out of the school. I could pass out, or you could burst into flames -"

_Ahem. Once was enough, thank you._

"What? Oh, yeah. Sorry, I forgot about that...Um, point is, I'm practically untouchable now."

_Your life, Lysander, will be scattered with embarrassment, past and future. It is unavoidable._

"Gee, thanks. I feel great now. Listen, I don't want to be rude or anything, but -"

_You want me to get on with the sorting so you can forget your humiliation?_

"Yes. Yes I do."

_Very well. Let's see. Ah. Less...diverse, shall we say, than your brother._

"I, um, don't know what that means."

_It's not important. I don't wish to make comparisons. All I mean, Zander, is that you're very easy to sort._

"Oh. Uh, that's...nice..."

_It's a shame we won't have more time together. Good luck, though. Are you ready, Lysander?_

"Yeah. Sure. Hit me."

It didn't speak to me again – but yelled "Ravenclaw" to the entire hall. The hat was pulled away, and I stood, smiling over at the Gryffindor table where The Family were clapping and everything. Just as loudly as they did for Lorcan – who, I realised as I started towards the Ravenclaw table, had stood.

He raised his hand as I got nearer, and I met it in a high five. A brotherly hug later, I sat between him and Lydia, who hugged me tightly.

"I thought I'd be here all alone." She told me in a half laugh. I'm grinning like an idiot again, and even Lorcan can't stop that – though in true brother style, he tries.

"Hey, Zander – did you _miss your name_?"

That one's going to haunt me for years.


	14. Molly

I think the standard of these are declining...I'm sorry...

And sorry this took so long. Molly was just as hard to write as her sister.

14. Molly

You know what I love about people? The way they try so hard to pretend they're not looking at you. Tact, I think it's called, but I'm not sure. I assume it's to try stop people being offended, this staring-and-pretending routine.

If only they were a little better at the pretending thing, huh?

I understand, of course. Presumably, if I wasn't a member of my family, I'd be staring at members of my family, too. If that made any sense. But I am a member of my family, so I'm the one being stared at. It's not as if it's something I'm not used to though, so I can ignore it. Famous surnames attract stares, apparently. And whispers. And points.

But it's fine.

I love this place, you know. Have done since I was a little kid. Every year, at the memorial ceremony, I just sit and look around. It's impressive, and beautiful, even if the reason we're there, the memorial, and knowledge that dead bodies once laid in this amazing hall kind of gives it a tragic beauty.

But I think that makes me like it more. There's history here, from long before I even know. Not just the war, the deaths, the victory, but all the stuff that came before that, the big stuff, the little stuff. It just amazes me.

My mum says I'm just a romantic at heart. I don't really get that, but whatever.

I know everyone says they'd been wanting to come here their whole lives, but it's actually sort of true for me. I've wanted to come here for as long as I could remember. Teddy, Vee and Monique are all already here, and I sort of resented them all, a little, for being here when I wasn't. Don't get me wrong, there's nothing wrong with being at home. Even if Lucy drives me crazy. But let's not get into _that_.

I guess I'll miss her. Sort of. I'll miss the good stuff. But me and Lucy have just never got along. We argue over the stupidest things, get moody with each other, refuse to talk to each other for days. I hate it, because I always wanted to be close to her. I still remember the day she was born. I was almost four, so the memory isn't very detailed or anything. But I remember staying with Aunt Fleur and Uncle Bill, and I remember Dad coming over, when it was dark and I was already in my pjs. I don't know why I was still awake, but I was sat on the sofa in the living room. Dad picked me up, spun me around, and told me I had a little sister.

And I remember the day after, when I saw her for the first time. All pink and funny-looking, and I didn't understand why everyone was saying she was beautiful when she wasn't. But everyone kept telling me I was the big sister now, and all that kind of stuff.

But still. She's only seven. Maybe we'll get on better when we're older.

Dad says that when he was younger, he used to bicker with his brothers, and Auntie Ginny, all the time. I'm not really sure if that's supposed to help, though, because they sort of bicker a lot, now, too.

But he tries.

Anyway. It'll be years before Lucy's here, too, so maybe all the time away from each other will help. You never know. For now, though, I'm going to have to make some friends. Outside the family. It's going to be weird, because I've been so shielded for most of my life, kept away from a lot of the world. I'll be out of my comfort zone, in my classes and my dorm, because I'll be away from my family.

I'm terrified of it, and looking forward to it, too. It'll be nice to be free of them – as much as I love them, and I do – and it'll be nice to see how well I handle things without the – is it called a security blanket? Well, that. I sort of want to see if I can.

And it might be nice to just be Molly Weasley for a while. Just a regular kid, instead of being someone's big sister, older cousin, younger cousin, daughter, niece. There's so many roles within a family. It'll be nice to find out who I actually am.

Does that sound strange? Or ungrateful? Because I'm not ungrateful, at all. I know I'm lucky to have my family, as much as they bug me. I've been to Phoenix House, I've seen all those kids who don't have parents, don't have families, and I can't imagine what it's like.

And I'm not just lucky to have my parents, either. I'm even luckier than that, because I know that if something ever happened to my parents – touch wood – then me and Lucy would be looked after. I like to believe that everyone would be willing to take us in and give us a home, but I know, for sure, that at least someone would. We'd still have a home, still have a family, even if we ended up moving in with Grandma and Granddad Weasley.

How many people know, with absolute certainty, that they'd be safe and loved and looked after if their parents died?

Exactly. So me and Lucy, and our cousins, we're incredibly lucky.

Which makes it even weirder to think that, if things were a little different, we might not have them at all. Dad ran out on his family when the war started. If he'd never have gone back...

Well, it's weird to think it.

Anyway. Back to my sorting. I love thinking that. _My_ sorting. Tomorrow I'm going to be writing home about my sorting, rather than being sat reading about Teddy's/Vee's/Monique's.

I hope mum and dad keep my letter. I'd like to have it forever, so when I'm all grown up I'll be able to remember it. They will, won't they? Sure they will.

I'll add a p.s just to make sure, though.

So. Nearly there now. I'm only a little nervous – is that normal? Should I be more nervous? I should, right? What's wrong with me?

Ahem. Never mind.

A glance at the Gryffindor table. Smiles and waves.

And then – wait for it – wait for it –

"Weasley, Molly."

There I am.

I walk forward, sort of rushed. There's a few murmurs and whispers, but that's what happens when you're a Weasley. And then I sit; then the hat's over my head.

"Hi."

_Hello. It's rare I get an eager one – most students are scared when they get here._

"I'm just excited. Well, a little scared, I guess. But mostly excited."

_That's good. Best way to start. Aren't you nervous, though, about which house you'll go into?_

"No. Not really. It doesn't matter, does it?"

_Well, it does a little. But there are more important things._

"Oh. Um..."

_I didn't mean to worry you, Miss Weasley. _

"It's OK. I just want this over with."

_Of course. Let me see. _

Silence. More silence.

"Um...Is everything OK...?"

_Yes, yes. I apologise. I was deciding._

"Oh. Have you, ah, finished?"

_Almost. Tell me, Miss Weasley, how are they many more of your family to come here?_

"A few. I guess. Um, my sister will be here in a few years, too."

_I'll look forward to it._

"I wouldn't."

He – uh, she? It? – laughed a little.

_We'll see. Right, Miss Weasley. Let's talk about you for a moment. Where do you think you fit?_

"I don't know. Really. As far as I can tell, I don't belong in any of the houses. But I guess I've got to go somewhere, and you'll figure it out."

_Such complete faith. Somewhat rare, even in eleven year olds._

"Um..."

_Not a bad thing, Miss Weasley. And I think I know where you belong. _

"OK."

_It's admirable, Miss Weasley, that you are so willing to start here, to be away from your family and the security they offer. I think you would do well on your own...I almost regret putting you in the same house as them._

"The same...Oh. Really?"

_Yes. It was nice meeting you, Miss Weasley._

"Um, thanks. You too."

_Goodbye._

"Bye -"

_GRYFFINDOR!_

Well. I don't think I expected that. But I'm smiling as I hand back the hat, and as I walk over to my family and sit beside Monique.

"Hi." She says brightly.

"Hi." I reply. I like it here. There may not be much of the family here – yet – but it still...it feels almost like home.


	15. Dominique

Been a while, I know. This was difficult, and I think it shows. I wrote half of it before Christmas, finished it off today, and well...

So, there's only Roxy left (unless I've forgot someone) so next chapter will be the last.

Chapter 15 – Dominique

Well. At least it isn't raining. The way Vee tells it, she nearly drowned on the way here. Though of course I know that's an exaggeration, because that's what Victoire does. She exaggerates and dramatises everything. Loves being the centre of attention, my sister.

Does that sound harsh? Mum always tells me I'm too hard on Vee, that I judge her too much. I guess maybe I do. Then again, she says the same thing to Victoire. I think she thinks we have a dysfunctional relationship because she compares it to her own relationship with her sister. But there's a big age-gap there, so when they were growing up, I guess mum was like a second mother to Aunt Gabrielle, and, she looked up to my mum. Or so I gather, from what people say, and their relationship now.

But there's only two years between me and Vee, give or take, so we don't have that. And I'm supposed to judge her, aren't I? I'm her sister. And she is a drama queen, and she does like to be the centre of attention.

I think it has something to do with her birthday, you know. Thinking about it, that would make sense. Because on Vee's birthday, we have to get up early, and she opens her presents and birthday cards, then we have to get ready to go to the Burrow. We spend the morning there, then come here, for the memorial ceremony. Well, except for the last two years, when Vee's been here. I guess she just opens her presents in the morning, does her lessons, then goes to the memorial ceremony.

And I guess it's hardly a proper birthday celebration. When we were younger, she'd have a party on the day before or after her birthday. I know it gets to her sometimes that everyone's so sad on her birthday, and that they're all remembering our dead uncle, but she's never complained.

Well, she's not _that_ shallow. Actually, as much as I'd love to say she was as shallow as a puddle, she's not, really that shallow at all.

Anyway. It didn't rain, and it wasn't actually all that cold. We had a nice long trip down here on a train, where I sat with Vee and Teddy and a few of their mates. It's weird, watching teenagers. Teddy and his friends are all going into fifth year now, and Vee's starting her third. She only turned thirteen a few months back, but already she's filled a shelf in our room with make-up and perfume and hair stuff. She's always been girly, but really, that's overkill. She had an argument with Dad over the summer, because he told her she was wearing too much make-up. She got really upset and angry and told him that a little bit of mascara and lip gloss never hurt anyone. I think he's scared that make-up will make boys interested in her, but it's a little late for that. Boys have always been interested in Vee. Even now, when I look over at her, I can see at least five boys glancing at her. One of them's just staring, without even trying to hide. But she's watching me, so she doesn't notice.

She smiles and waves at me, trying to reassure me. Well, don't I feel like great? There she is, being all nice, while I'm thinking less-than-nice thoughts about her.

OK. Back to my sorting. Got a while to go yet, I think, because W is quite far down the alphabet. Which means I get to stand around and watch everyone else get sorted. I don't mind that. Sure I'm nervous and I want to get it over with, but I sort of like watching people. Like, the boy going forward now. He looks terrified, which is strange, because he's tall and wide. Not fat, not really. He just sort of has a big frame. Point is, he looks like he could maybe knock Flitwick over with his little finger, and yet his expression is full of fear, and his hands are shaking. When he sits down on the stool, he screws his eyes up.

Few minutes later, he goes to Slytherin. See, you'd never have thought that, probably, if you'd seen have scared he was. But he's relaxed now, as he walks over to the table, and he looks tough. No one'll mess with him, I don't think, unless they say the pure terror on his face just then.

Next is a girl. She's small and skinny and has big eyes, that look like they don't really belong to her face, though I figure she'll grow into them. A lot of kids look like their eyes are huge, but it works out in the end. She looks nervous, but under it all there's something else. A kind of capability, I guess. She looks like she could handle pretty much anything life throws at her. And maybe like she's already had to handle some stuff.

Seconds later she joins the Gryffindor table. A first glance, most people would figure her for a Ravenclaw, maybe a Hufflepuff. But you look closer, you see more.

I'm good at doing that. Looking closer, seeing what's under it. Which is why when I look back over at my sister, I see the make-up and the beauty and the confidence that beautiful people tend to have. And I can see that really, my sister's quite insecure, and even a little shy. That she wears make-up to hide the fact that she's pretty without it, so that people will, hopefully, see that there's more to her. That she can act confident, at ease, because she's used to people staring at her. But really, she notices every pair of eyes that focus on her, and it makes her nervous.

See? All you have to do is look. I don't tend to look closely at Vee, though, because I'll probably wind up liking her too much, and then where will we be? Mostly, people don't look close anyway. They just glance at someone, make judgments and assumptions, and look away. If someone was to look at me, now, they'd just a see a strawberry blonde eleven year old, with fair skin and blue eyes. They'd see that I look a bit like my sister, but not as beautiful. They'll see that I'm looking around at other people, and maybe they'll think that I'm glaring, that I'm moody or miserable. That's all they'll see, all they'll think.

If they were to look properly, look harder, they'd see that in a few years I'll look like Vee does now. They'll see that I'm not glaring, but thinking. They'll see that I'm not miserable, but a little nervous.

If they'd watched for a while, they'd see even more. But most people don't. They'd don't look close, or look long. So they'd don't see a lot.

But that's people for you.

So. We just had a couple of Hufflepuffs. And a Ravenclaw, a Slytherin, two Gryffindors.

I wonder where I'll end up. I'd like to go to Gryffindor, because that's where the rest of the family were. Well, except Hannah and Luna and Rolf, but I guess that doesn't exactly count. If you want to be completely technically, those guys, and Neville, are not _really_ family. Only, they sort of are. It's weird and confusing. I once asked Grandma about it, why they're family when we're not really related. She just said something about how anyone can be family, and it's about love, not genes. And since those guys are at all the family stuff, and since their kids are like my cousins, they are family.

See? Confusing. But they're OK really. And Neville is here, teaching. He's head of Gryffindor now, and everyone got all excited about it and we had a party. I guess it's sort of a promotion, but as far as I can tell, he doesn't do much extra work, and I don't think he got any more money. But still, everyone was really happy for him, so it must be a big deal really.

I wonder what it's going to be like for Lou, now. All alone at home. With just mum and dad. It was weird the last couple of year without Vee. Me and Lou got along better, though, strangely enough. I guess because it was just the two of us. That's probably going to change now, though. We'll grow apart because I'm here and he's not. Maybe.

The same will happen to me and Molly. Me and her are sort of best friends, but only because we're the only ones left. Everyone else has someone in the family the same age as them, except Vee, but she's got Teddy. Even little Lydia Longbottom has the Scamander twins the same age, though they're mostly with Lily and Hugo, 'cause they're only a year older.

But Molly and me don't have anyone our age, and since there's only a year between us, we ended up together. But now I'm here, and she's at home, and I guess we probably won't stay friends. I asked mum about it before I left, and she said that we could stay friends, we'll see each other in the holidays and we can write. But she also said it was important that I make some friends my own age, so that I won't get lonely.

So I've got to make my own friends. Maybe I'll get a boyfriend. Vee had one last year, but they broke up after three weeks. Vee said she got bored with him, and didn't really like him anymore, but she also said Teddy didn't like him, and I think maybe that had more to do with it.

Ah. It's nearly my name. The boy who just went up, his last name was Thompson. So I'll be soon...

"Weasley, Dominique."

Told you.

I move forward awkwardly. Everyone's _looking,_ and some people are whispering. But when I look over at the Gryffindor table, Vee waves, and Teddy winks. I think that's their silent version of "good luck".

So, I sit, and the hat drops right over my face. I sort of thought it would smell weird, since it's so old, but it doesn't.

_Ah. Hello, Miss Weasley. I remember your family well._

"Um, all of them?" Well, what else am I supposed to say?

_Yes. I remember every mind I look into, Miss Weasley, every student I sort._

Creepy.

_Now, let me think..._

That makes me a little nervous, because hats aren't supposed to think. I don't care how old or important it is, it's weird that it can think.

_Do you know, some students are very easy to sort. Their minds are very open and clear, and the answer is easy. Your mind, however, is very guarded. I see that you dislike my intrusion._

"I...it's not personal, or anything. Just, you know, my private thoughts should be private..."

_Quite. I'm afraid there's nothing you can hide from me, Miss Weasley, no matter how much you try. And I see that you are more complex than some students. Still very young, most qualities aren't fully developed yet, anyway. But you are a little more difficult to sort._

"I'm sorry."

_Don't be, don't be. It's not problematic. _

It was silent for a long time – well, it was probably only a few seconds, but it felt like a long time. So long, that I finally asked, "Is everything OK?"

_Yes, yes. I was thinking, Miss Weasley. Considering. _

"And have you...do you know where I should be?"

_Yes. I do hate to be predictable, but there's no getting round it. You'd fit quite well in all the houses, I think, particularly in Slytherin -"_

"Slytherin? No way. I refuse. I won't go there – are you crazy?"

_Prejudices help none, Miss Weasley, and damage many. But no matter, that is not the house I have decided on. Though you would find, I think, that you'd do quite well in there. But, slightly better, I think, in Gryffindor._

I don't care if that's how it works. It's just rude to shout out a part of a private conversation to a hall full of people. It would have been nice of it to finish the sentence to me, then shout the word to the hall.

I didn't get a chance to say that, though, because the hat was taken away, and I had to walk over to the table. Vee moved over, to give me space between her and Teddy, and beamed at me. I smiled back, then pretended to watch the sorting.

While shooting glances over at the Slytherin table. It was wrong, you know. I'd never have fit in there. I'd never have liked it, never done well. I am not even a little bit of a Slytherin, whatever some rag of a hat says.


	16. Roxanne

So sorry it's taken me so long, I never meant it to. Was busy with revision and exams and starting another story, but still.

So, this is the last chapter; thanks a lot for all your reviews, and for reading it all, of course.

Chapter 16 – Roxy

I shouldn't be so nervous. I know this. I didn't need Lucy to point it out as we entered the castle. There is no reason to be nervous. If we look at this logically, I'm simply awaiting my turn to try on a hat, which will assess my qualities, and place me in the house that best fits those qualities. This is not a bad thing. It doesn't matter, after all, which house I end up, as long as it's the house that best fits me, that will cater to my needs.

So why am I so nervous I'm practically shaking? I swear, if Fred could tell how scared I am, he'd never let it go. As if I don't give him enough reasons to make fun of me as it is. (As if he wouldn't make up reasons if I didn't provide them.)

I can't help it. It's even more annoying that Lucy doesn't seem all that bothered – this is not how we work. She is the impulsive one; I'm the sensible one. She's the irrational one; I'm the logical one. This whole thing should be reversed; she should be impossibly nervous, and _I_ should be rolling my eyes and saying it isn't a big deal.

I hate it when life flips everything around like this.

OK. It's not that bad. Soon, I'll be sorted, and all my stupid nerves won't matter.

But what if I'm in Slytherin? Everyone said it doesn't matter, but, well, _Voldemort_ was in Slytherin. And my uncle was the one who _saved_ everyone from Voldemort. I can't be in Slytherin. My dad's twin _died_ in the war!

But I don't want to talk about that.

So. I can't possibly be in Slytherin. I just can't be. It would be so wrong. Next. Ravenclaw. Well. That wouldn't be bad, I suppose, but I don't think I'm smart enough for that. And, um, well, Lucy won't be in Ravenclaw. Not that she's stupid, but she isn't a Ravenclaw. And I don't want to be in a house alone. I don't care if mum said I'd be surprised at how well I'd survive without the family, I need them, especially Lucy. She's my best friend, how am I supposed to manage Hogwarts without her?

And Hufflepuff. Well, I'm loyal. And I guess it wouldn't be bad. But...Lucy won't be a Hufflepuff. Lucy'll be a Gryffindor. Like the rest of the family.

I can't be away from them. It's not just because I'm too weak to manage on my own, it's because we've always stuck together. When your family's famous, and you've got people always staring and whispering and trying to talk to you and take pictures, you end up sticking together. When the _Daily_ _Prophet_ has pictures of you covered in cake at your cousin's birthday party, or when _Witch Weekly_ gets some picture analyser person to look at pictures of you and your extended family and tell the world all the personality traits they can guess you have, you stick together. (The analyser was pretty good, actually, there were only a few things wrong.)

Although I think some it is because of Grandma. She's determined to make us all stick together, determined never to lose one of us. Maybe it's because of Uncle Fred, maybe it's just how she is. But she's definitely the centre; without her, the whole family may fall apart.

Ahem. Enough with the depressing thoughts now. I don't want to think about my Grandma not being around. Not just because I'll miss her, because it'll hurt me, but because I really do think the family'll fall apart – and I think it might destroy my dad.

But hey, maybe he's stronger than I think.

I think Lucy keeps looking at me, and for a moment it's as if she's silently telling me not to worry, but I looked away. I can't stand here, knowing she's not at all scared, and wonder what's wrong with me. So I looked back at the boy being sorted now. He's really, really tall. How do people get that tall at eleven? That's not normal. Poor guy's gonna feel like a freak till everyone else catches up.

He's sorted – Hufflepuff – and the next boy is called out. Oh – oh, his last name was Timmons. T. That's close to W – very close –

Without thinking, I took hold of Lucy's hand. I don't know if I was trying to seek comfort, or hoping we could just run away. Whatever my motivation, I gripped her hand, and then, kind of stupidly I'll admit, stepped backwards. Lucy smirked at me, but her eyes are sympathetic. I smiled back, but I feel a little sick now, and I don't release her hand.

The boy is sorted into Ravenclaw, and we both wait for Lucy's name.

"Weasley, Lucy." There it is. I dropped her hand as she took a step forward. For the briefest moment, she looked nervous. Maybe it's mean of me, but that's a comfort.

The seconds tick by. I can just see Lucy's mouth under the brim of the hat. It's relaxed at first, then it tightens as though she's tense. Then she smiles, and the smile widens to the point of dopiness.

The smile turns normal again, then she bites her lip. Next thing, the hat yells Gryffidor, and Flitwick takes the hat off of her head. She looks a little dazed, shoots me a smile, and goes off to sit by Molly.

Oh, damn. My turn. I sort of want to run, you know? Run away, and never come back.

"Weasley, Roxanne." Oh boy. I don't run. I actually consciously make the decision to turn, to run out of the doors, and get someone to get in touch with my parents, to make them pick me up. But my legs won't agree with that decision, and instead carry me forwards. I wonder if the floor here is slightly lower, because of all the students that have walked along it and worn it down. Probably not.

Flitwick smiles at me as I sit on the stool. Maybe that should help, but it doesn't. I think I'm going to throw up.

Then, darkness. I thought, for a moment, that I'd passed out, but then I realised it was the hat.

_Try to relax, Roxy. I promise I won't hurt you._

"I...I know. I'm sorry. I shouldn't be. I can't help it."

_Just breathe deeply a few times. _

"What if I pass out? I think I might pass out..."

_It will not matter, Roxy. You wouldn't be the first._

"Really? Wow. When?"

_A good few years ago, I believe. And once more, and century or two before that. But we're not here to discuss other students or their sortings, Roxy. We're here to talk about you._

"Right. Yeah. That's why I might pass out."

_Tell me, Roxy, are you worried about where you'll end up?_

"Yes. I know where I need to be, I know where I should be, and I'm afraid I won't end up there."

_You believe I'll make a mistake, put you in the wrong house?_

"I'm afraid I'll belong in the wrong house. That I won't be like the rest of them."

_If you were to end up in a different house, Roxy, rest assured you would cope. I see that. And I've never had anyone fail to find their place at Hogwarts._

"I – I guess. But, what if you do put me in the wrong place? I'm only eleven – I won't have developed any of those qualities yet, will I?"

_Don't worry about that, please, Roxy. Most eleven year olds haven't developed the qualities. I see the potential to do so._

"Oh." And then something occurs to me. "I...Can I ask you something?"

_Of course._

"If you see the potential – why didn't you – couldn't you – couldn't you see what Voldemort had to potential to be, to do? If you'd've seen, you could've put him somewhere else, or had him expelled, or locked away. You could've stopped the whole thing, and all those people would've lived..."

I remembered at the moment, though I tried not to, the anniversary (of the end of the war, that is) a few years back. When I saw my dad in the kitchen – not laughing or talking, but not crying either. He'd been staring into space, hadn't noticed me. And he'd looked so lost, so broken, it scared me.

Of course I'd known he must miss his twin. I'd known it must hurt, still. But I'd never considered the possibility that he might not be completely whole.

I bit my lip at the hat's silence, worried I'd offended it. But when it spoke again, the voice was gentle, and full of sorrow.

_Some things, Roxy, are impossible to predict, to see, to understand. If I'd been able to, of course I would have stopped him. I'm very sorry I could not, Roxy. I'm sorry for the way it hurt you and your family._

"Didn't hurt me. I wasn't around."

_Still. No one could have predicted what he would do. And it is no one's fault except his own._

"I know, I know. You have to take responsibility for your own actions, they're no one else's fault. My Grandma tells me all the time." I nodded, then stopped, realising I was still being watched.

_And I take responsibility for not seeing his potential. Now, Roxy, would you like to know what I see in you?_

"Ah, sure. Go ahead."

_A strong sense of honour, and justice. Integrity, and yes, bravery._

"I'm not brave."

_No one else, Roxy, has ever tried to blame me for missing something so vital. Most wouldn't dare. So I know where you belong. GRYFFINDOR!_

I lift the hat off slowly, and I think my hands shook a little. As I walked towards the Gryffindor table, Lucy clapped and cheered – the whole table did – and she waved at an empty seat in front of her. I manage to smile as I sit.

"I told you!" She hissed, as the clapping slowed and stopped. I nodded. I feel a little weird, a little shaky, as though I've just broken some important rule. But still – I had to ask.

We turned back to watch the last few people get sorted. And here I am; here, at Hogwarts.


End file.
